Picking Up The Pieces
by Eniko151
Summary: An avengers Fanfiction set three years after Age of Ultron. After a tragic incident during an avengers mission, Pietro- who miraculously survived the battle in Sokovia, due to his hyper metabolism- is left to piece together the past to figure out the fate of his friend. The event leaves Pietro wondering why he is always left behind.
1. Chapter 1

"Try and be careful, alright?"

Pietro sighed slightly.

It had been three whole years since the battle with Ultron and his sister still fussed over him before every single mission. He knew she worried, but there was really no need. He'd gone through enough trauma, after his injuries in that fight, to let him know to be careful.

"Wanda, I'll be fine, don't worry."

She still looked anxious but didn't try to warn him again, settling herself by fumbling with one of the zips on his black, bullet-proof jacket. It was surprisingly comfy; Pietro drew the long, curved knife from its sheath on his waist. He inspected it carefully, enjoying the way the blue tinted, metal blade reflected light around the jet.

Glancing to his left, he saw Barton on the set next to him, twinging the string on his bow. He caught Pietro watching him and looked up, casting the younger man a quick smile. Pietro returned it and looked around, sheathing his knife. Natasha, Bruce and Thor were sat opposite them on the left side of the jet. Tony sat in the pilot seat, flying them to their destination- Tusheti, northeast Georgia- while Steve was on his own in the centre, facing the back of the room.

"Make sure you don't get your legs shot Cap." Natasha joked.

Steve smiled. "No, I think I've learnt my lesson."

The jet shuddered and Pietro gripped the edge of his seat.

He hated flying.

It was something that, if the jet crashed, you couldn't run from it. _Right, I'm a coward,_ Pietro thought to himself. He forced his fingers to ease off of his seat before his knuckles became even whiter.

The jet descended, engines roaring as it lowered to the ground. Tony pressed a button on the console, lowering the door at the back of the jet. He spun round his chair, looking at Pietro.

"You're up."

Pietro unstrapped himself from the seat, getting to his feet.

It was the custom.

Pietro went to scout the area before the others went out.

Glancing at Wanda, he gave her a brief nod, before sprinting out of the jet, leaving nothing but blue strands of mist, quickly dissolving, behind him.

* * *

Pietro skidded to a halt as the land stopped ahead of him and he peered over the edge.

The jet had landed on a cliff, dropping down steeply into another flat surface. The level below Pietro was a good twenty metre drop, probably more. A waterfall cascaded down from the cliff the jet was on and into a crystal clear pool on the level below, cutting through the ground and thundering off the other side; where it went was not visible from where Pietro stood. It seemed to Pietro that the level he was on and the one below him met together at a perfect right angle.

The place appeared to be deserted.  
Then a muffled yell met Pietro's ears and he crouched down, trying to make himself less noticeable on the clifftop. He heard a loud noise, like stones grating together, and a camouflaged truck appeared out of the bottom of the cliff, numerous agents following it, too many to count.

Pietro zoomed back to the Quinjet, quickly explaining the situation.

"Sounds like an all in mission. No time for subtlety." Steve decided, double checking his shield was still attached to his arm.

"Agreed." Tony inputted from behind him, now wearing his red and gold suit. "Let's smash them… Pietro." He turned to the younger man. "Is there any way to get down the cliff without dying?"

"There's a steep path to the right." Pietro reported. "I guess you guys can fly down though." He added, glancing between Tony and Wanda.

"Good point. You guys have fun on the death drop path." Tony joked, flicking down the suits face and walking out of the jet.

* * *

"Someone take out the truck!"

Pietro skidded to a halt momentarily to hear Natasha's yell. A moment later, something went whizzing through the air towards the truck. It exploded on impact, sending bits of the truck flying through the air. Pietro super speeded out the way as the door went flying past his head.

He whipped around to see Clint, bow still raised towards the truck. An agent came up behind him, wrapping their arms around his neck and swatting the archers bow from his hands. Clint struck his foot out, kicking them in the shins, but the man only tightened his hold.

Pietro sped up, crashing into the agent and thrusting his knife into their side, making him crumple to the ground.

Clint smiled slightly before picking up his bow and whipping it to the side, smacking some agent in the face. "I had that covered."

"Sure you did." Pietro replied, sarcastically, spinning round and slicing his blue-tinted knife upwards, cutting open the chest of an approaching agent.

A sharp pain stung Pietro and he looked down momentarily.

His bullet-proof jacket had fallen off earlier and he now had a large, bleeding hole in his arm, the bullet lodged in his humerus.

Snapping back to attention, he fought the agents, soon realising that they were forcing him closer and closer to the edge of the cliff. The drop was a fall of certain death. Pietro felt the edge under his foot and battled even more fiercely, slicing his knife at super speed.

Judging by the yells of the other avengers, he guessed they were receiving similar treatment.  
 _I need to see if Wanda's alright,_ Pietro thought.

He swung his right leg round quickly, tripping up the first wave of agents surrounding him. An agent punched him in the jaw and he lost his footing, slipping off the edge of the cliff.

"Stark, little help." He raised his voice as he spoke into the earpiece, clinging onto a rock, jutting out the side of the cliff face, yet still managing to keep hold of his knife.

"Where are you?" Tony asked, sounding a little panicky.

"Well, I'm currently dangling off the edge of a cliff. So if you could find some time to…" He broke off, letting out a startled yell as part of the rock crumbled and he adjusted his grip.

"Oh my god. Okay hang on! I'm on my way!"

Pietro muttered something about 'hanging on', cutting open the throat of an agent who was aiming a pistol at him. Hot, red blood splattered his face and the falling body of the agent almost pushed him off his hold. He suddenly felt something wrap around his chest and he twisted round to see the face panel of the ironman suit about three inches from his.

"Try not to get shot." Tony advised, flying up, above the agents.

"Good life advice." Pietro muttered back, instinctively ducking as a bullet was shot at them.

Tony put Pietro down a few metres away from Clint. Pietro wiped the blood from his face and murmured his thanks, kicking away an agent who was running at him.

* * *

"Pietro! Look out!"

Pietro was shoved from the side, knocking him down to the dusty ground, almost pushing him into the fast flowing river. At the exact moment he hit the floor, he heard a noise like lighting cracking open a rock. _No, anything but that sound._ He lifted his head, scrambling to his feet, eyes wide.

Clint was stood where he had been previously; the archer was staring at him, shocked, his breathing slow and heavy. His arms were still raised slightly from where he had pushed Pietro out the way; they trembled visibly. He hesitantly put a hand to his heart, drawing it back to see his fingers coated in dark red blood.

"No." Pietro choked out the word.

Clint met his gaze, whispering, "I'm sorry."

His eyes fluttered shut and he fell backwards, disappearing off the side of the cliff and out of sight.

"No!" Pietro yelled, racing towards the edge.

Arms wrapped around his chest, detaining him before he followed Clint. He dropped to his knees, trying to struggle free from the persons grasp.

"Pietro, come on!" Wanda's urgent voice shouted, ducking as an agent fired a bullet at her head.

"No, Clint!"

"There's nothing you can do! He's gone."

"He can't be! Let me-"

He broke off as another gunshot sounded, unnaturally loud. The bullet embedded itself in his shoulder-blade and whizzed out the other side. A memory of Sokovia burnt in his mind as he let out a startled gasp. Wanda began dragging him away from the cliff edge, desperately calling out to the other avengers. The request was answered by Tony, who flew over to her, quickly taking Pietro in his arms and shouted for the others to fall back.

With the emotional trauma of those few previous minutes and a hole ripped through his chest, Pietro's head was swimming and his eyes flickered, threatening to close. Darkness washed over his vision and he fell limp in Tony's hold, unconsciousness claiming him.


	2. Chapter 2

"Is he thinking about Clint again?"

Wanda sighed and nodded, sympathy for her brother blossoming inside her. Ever since Clint's death, three days ago, Pietro had hardly eaten, and Wanda suspected he had not slept either, spending every day and night alone in his room.

Effectively, he was making himself ill.

He should be trying to regain his strength, after being shot by a Hydra agent, - who was quickly dealt with by Thor- But, instead, he was just growing weaker by the day.

Bruce, who was on a sofa in the sitting area, closed his eyes, shaking his head at Pietro's stubborn attitude.

"Isn't there anything you can do for him?" Wanda asked quietly.

Bruce, regretful that there was nothing he could do, shook his head again. "No medicine can stop him grieving."

Natasha, sat beside him, silently rubbed a hand to her eyes, trying and failing to hide her emotions. Even though he was awkward at the best of times, Bruce wrapped his arms around her shoulders, hugging her gently.

Shutting her eyes momentarily, memories of Clint swam through Wanda's mind. She blinked furiously, banishing them and turned away, murmuring something inaudible and leaving the room, closing the door silently behind her.

* * *

Wanda knocked quietly on the door to her brother's room.

"Pietro?" She called softly. "Can I come in?"

A non-committal murmur sounded, which could have meant anything, and Wanda paused for a heartbeat before pushing open the door.

She had to swallow back a gasp of shock as she saw her brother, who was staring at the floor, sat on the edge of his bed; which was pushed up against the right wall. His unshaven face was pale and gaunt. He turned his hollow, dull eyes on Wanda, the dark circles surrounding them giving him an exhausted look.

The bread, which Wanda had bought him a few hours ago, lay untouched on a plate on his bedside table.

"Pietro, please. You need to eat or sleep or… Something." Wanda pleaded, sitting beside him on the bed.

He shook his head, eyes fixed on the ground, not giving her a reply.

"You're making yourself sick." Wanda warned gently.

Pietro shut his eyes, letting out a quiet breath. "I'm fine."

His voice was hoarse and quiet, as if he hadn't used it for a long time. Wanda was worried about him, not believing him for a second when he insisted he was alright; he looked as though he would faint any second.

"Pietro, can you promise me you'll at least get some sleep?"

Her brother hesitated before nodding slightly, turning his gaze back to the ground.

"Do you want to be left alone?" Wanda asked softly, already knowing the answer.

Pietro nodded again, "please."

His sister placed a gentle kiss on his forehead, stroking back his hair comfortingly and walking out of the room, shutting the door behind her. Pietro stood up, his vision clouding slightly and waited for about thirty seconds, until he was sure Wanda had gone, before silently opening his door.

* * *

Pietro sped down the corridor, a blurred, blue mist. As he stopped, he found himself feeling very weak and lightheaded, and had to lean against the wall for a moment. When he had finally recovered, he raised his head, taking a deep breath and twisting the door knob to the room he was standing outside.

It was Clint's.

Memories almost overwhelmed him as he stepped inside, shutting the door. Clint's room was bigger than his, the head of the bed pushed against the centre of the back wall. A window was overlooking the city on the right wall, a wardrobe in the far left corner with a desk to the left of it.

Pietro took a few paces forward, pausing as something rustled under his foot. He looked down, seeing a scrap of paper under his left foot, near the desk. Bending down, he picked it up, immediately recognising Clint's italic handwriting. It was incomplete; presumably he was writing just before he had to go on a mission and didn't get to finish it.

Pietro's eyes widened as he realised it was addressed to him.

 _2_ _nd_ _Oct_

Clint had written this on the day of the mission.

 _Pietro.  
The mission we are about to go on will have an outcome, and one that will probably be bad. (That was terrible grammar but oh well)_

Pietro grinned slightly at this.

 _Back to the point- I have to do this and you can't ask why. I know that you don't understand that yet but bear with, okay? Do_ _ **not**_ _show this to the others. Make a promise right now._

Pietro, in his mind, unknowingly did so, and then paused, wondering why he was promising something to a dead man.

 _Sorry, I keep going off topic._

 _Please, do not-_

That was where the letter ended.

Pietro frowned. _How did Clint know that the mission would end badly?_

He stood there for a long time, reading the letter over and over again, trying to make more sense of it. It was like Clint was speaking to him from the dead. After a few moments, it became unbearable. Pietro hurriedly wiped his eyes- which were wet and red from crying- and pocketed the piece of paper. He forced himself not to look back as he left the room, shutting the door silently.

Speeding into his own room, Pietro sat back on the edge of his bed, shaking his head to clear his blurred vision. He sat there for a long time, absorbed in his thoughts.

* * *

The door opened and Wanda poked her head in.

"Pietro?"

He looked up as she walked into the room, sitting beside him of the bed.

"Why are you still awake? You said you'd rest." She reminded him gently. "It's been four hours."

If her brother was surprised at how fast the time had gone, he didn't show it, saying nothing and turning his unfocused gaze back to the floor.

Wanda bit her bottom lip, trying to decide if what she had planned was the right thing to do. _It's for his own good._

"Pietro, I'm really sorry but you have to sleep."

Before she could change her mind, and before Pietro could ask what she meant, she quickly raised her hand, flicking it to his temple.

He took in a quick, startled breath and his eyes flashed red for a heartbeat before they fluttered shut. Wanda caught him as he fell, moving him carefully, so he was lying on his side with his head on her lap, facing away from her. Stroking her fingers through his pale hair, she apologised quietly to her sleeping brother.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." She whispered, well aware that he couldn't hear her.

He was motionless, his body completely limp. The faint rise and fall of his chest was barely visible. Wanda took hold of his flaccid hand and intertwined her fingers with his.

Realisation began to sink in, almost making Wanda cry.

 _I used my power against my own brother._

She lifted both hands to cover her mouth, dropping Pietro's so it hung off the edge of the bed, stifling a sob. Taking in a shivering breath, she quickly regained control and, taking her hands away, gently caressed Pietro's pale cheek.

He didn't even twitch.

She shut her eyes, momentarily allowing memories to overwhelm her. Leaning down, she raised her brother's head a little and kissed his cheek, softly.

She whispered quietly into his pale hair.

"Please forgive me."


	3. Chapter 3

Pietro blinked open his eyes.

The first thing he heard was the sound of a door shutting quietly, but he soon began to wonder if he had imagined it. He was lying on his side, on his bed, facing the wall. _Did I fall asleep?_ He asked himself, confused.

Suddenly, remembrance struck him. _Wanda._

As he tried to sit up a sharp pain shot through his chest, making him let out a quiet gasp. He straightened up, running his hand along the bandage covering the bullet wound.

Grief stuck him again. Sharp as a dagger. Clint was dead. And there was nothing anyone could do to bring him back.

In his despair, Pietro subconsciously drew his knife from its sheath, which was on his bedside table. _My sacrifice was wasted. There were times after it when I was in so much pain, I wished I_ _ **had**_ _died. I could have that wish now._

He rested the blade on his upturned wrist. One slash. That's all it would take. Pietro shut his eyes. _Would it hurt?_ He felt hot tears prickling the edges of his eyes but didn't try to stop it, allowing them to fall freely down his cheeks. Taking in a deep breath, he tensed, half pressing down the knife. He hesitated.

Suddenly leaping up, he sped over to the wall opposite his bed, stabbing the knife into it with a frustrated yell. He put his clenched fists on the wall, hanging his head before sliding down, collapsing to his hands and knees. His vision was blurred with tears and Pietro couldn't without his sobs of anguish.

"Oh, no. Pietro."

He didn't look up, shutting his eyes tightly as he recognised Wanda's hushed voice.

Taking a few deep, shivering breaths, he tried to regain control of his unstoppable crying. Something in his mind snapped as Wanda laid her hand on his back.

He quickly scrambled up, speeding out of the room, leaving wisps of blue smoke in his trail. Wanda raced after him, running out into the corridor.

"Pietro!" She yelled, losing sight of her brother down the hallway.

* * *

A dull pain throbbed in Pietro's head and half opened his eyes with a slight groan.

The room he was in was grey and square, a locked door directly ahead of him. He tried to walk towards it, but found himself unable to move.

He was hanging limply, pressure pinching at his wrists which were raised over his head. He looked up, seeing heavy, metal chains around his wrists. They were attached to the ceiling above his head, holding him up. There were also shackles around his ankles, preventing him from escaping.

Closing his eyes for a heartbeat, he tried to remember what had happened.

He had almost committed suicide, he had been so close, but found himself unable to do it.

He had run away from Wanda; she just didn't understand.

As he had run outside, someone had called his name and he had turned around. Then there was only darkness.

 _I must have been knocked out._ Pietro concluded, straining on the chains holding him.

The door opened with a creak and Pietro looked up, halting in his struggles. A tall, athletic, dark haired man strode in. He stopped in front of Pietro, gazing coldly down at him. The man had an odd aura about him, like that of a great leader, turned bitter by his own greedy ambition.

"You are Pietro Maximoff, am I correct... An avenger?" He asked in a commanding voice; which was heavy with an unknown accent.

Pietro didn't reply, looking away from the man's stony stare. A stinging hand slapped his face and his head was roughly forced up.

"Answer me." The man ordered, his voice sharp and cold as ice.

Pietro glared at him, stubbornly refusing to speak.

"I suggest you reconsider." A cruel smile split the man's features. "Or the words will be forced from you."

Pietro didn't like the sound of that, but didn't wish to give the strange man the satisfaction.

The man frowned, obviously unused to having something disobey him. His eyes hardened. "Fine, have it your way."

The man let go of his head and Pietro let it drop, looking down at the grey floor.

A sharp pain stung his leg and he looked to the side, seeing the mysterious man holding a whip. He flicked it through the air again, slashing it on Pietro's back. He had to grit his teeth to stop himself from crying out. Again and again he was whipped, the man mercilessly slicing open Pietro's skin until he screamed.

After an unbearable amount of time, he finally halted in the whippings, throwing down the object and walking over to Pietro, who was hanging limp with exhaustion. Blood was seeping through the back of his shirt, hot and wet on his skin. He grabbed a handful of Pietro's hair, forcing him to look up.

"Do you know where Clinton Barton is?"

Pietro took a while to process the words. Too long it seems, for his silence earned him a clenched fist to the jaw. The taste of blood entered his mouth, dripping slowly onto the floor.

"Answer me!" The man yelled, losing his patience.

His rage spilled over, like a bursting dam, as Pietro did not reply. Pietro's breath was knocked from him as the man aimed a heavy kick at his torso. Pain lanced through his chest, but he didn't react, letting his body hang so he was almost kneeling; the chains held him up.

"We'll continue this after you've had time to reflect." The man growled.

Someone else came in, passing the man a bottle and a cloth before scuttling away like a frightened crab. Pietro felt his head being pulled up, tugging at his hair and he blinked open his eyes. The man held a slightly damp cloth to Pietro's mouth, making him choke at the scent of it.

 _Chloroform,_ Pietro immediately thought, holding his breath.

He shut his eyes, his lungs screaming for air. The man held him steady as he attempted to struggle free, pressing the cloth on harder. Finally giving in, Pietro drew a breath. He choked slightly for a moment, body convulsing, before falling limp, his eyes flickering shut.


	4. Chapter 4

_Please say it was a nightmare._

Pietro knew, even without opening his eyes, that it wasn't. The pain on his back and in his chest was real. The fact that he was hanging limply from his wrists, the pressure pinching his skin, was real.

He blinked opened his eyes. Immediately, he noticed he wasn't alone and straightened up, relieving the pressure on his wrists. The man was there again, glaring at him from where he stood, arms folded, leaning in a corner.

"About time." He growled, striding up to Pietro. "We have unfinished business to attend to."

Pietro narrowed his eyes in hatred. "You'll get nothing from me." He vowed; his voice was croaky and quiet. It hurt to talk.

"We'll test that, shall we?"

He took the whip from his belt and Pietro shut his eyes, bracing himself as he heard it slash through the air. Gritting his teeth as the whip sliced his back, Pietro tensed. He was certain it hurt more than last time.

The man whipped his back harshly, the lashes growing harder every time. As the twentieth slashed his back, Pietro couldn't without a scream of pain. But the man just continued, ignoring his shrieks and slicing the whip more fiercely through the air. The time passed unbearably slowly. His torture lasted at least three hours, until warm blood dripped freely down his back.

"Where is Barton!?" The man yelled over Pietro's screeches, for the hundredth time, still whipping him.

"He's dead!" Pietro finally screamed the words.

The man halted in mid-whip, his eyes widening in shock. He rushed over to Pietro, grabbing a fistful of his hair and forcing him to look up.

"Say that again." He ordered in a hushed voice.

"He's dead." Pietro repeated, his voice a, barely audible, whisper.

The man released his head and Pietro let it hang limply.

"I don't believe you… That wasn't the plan." He muttered, half to himself. He glared at Pietro, shaking away his doubt. "You're lying." He concluded, his voice angry. "You're just trying to make me stop hurting you."

"Well…" Pietro murmured. "It would be nice if you could."

"So you _are_ lying!" The man confirmed.

"That's not what I-"

Pietro broke off with a yell of pain as he was whipped again, the leather slitting open a long cut in the skin on his back.

"Shut up!" The man shouted loudly. "Tell the truth or I swear I'll kill you."

Pietro looked up at him; his blue eyes were dull with exhaustion. He couldn't be bothered to tell the man that he had just contradicted himself. _Do you want me to shut up or give you information, which you won't listen to anyway?_ The question was ready on his tongue but he held it.

"Go on then." He invited in a weak voice. "Kill me."

The man blinked and Pietro spent a short moment relishing the astonishment on his face. Obviously he had expected fear. He wasn't going to get it. Pietro wasn't afraid. _I would have saved you the time if I had any courage in me,_ Pietro thought to himself.

Shutting his eyes and hanging his head, tiredness overwhelmed Pietro for a heartbeat before a hand slapped his face, leaving his cheek stinging. He jerked back into full wakefulness and opened his eyes, raising his head to look at the man.

"I won't kill you." The man promised in a cruel voice. "Not until I destroy you."

* * *

Pietro couldn't breathe.

His lungs felt like they were going to burst. Finally giving in, he tried to gasp in air but found only water.

His head was suddenly pulled up, out of the water, and he gasped in several heaving breaths, choking out the transparent liquid. He gulped in another mouthful of the precious air before his head was forced down again, submerging his face in water.

The man had been at this for almost an hour now, yanking Pietro's head from the water only when he was stupidly close to drowning.

He tried to struggle free but the man only forced his head deeper into the large, water-filled, metal tub, pushing the remaining air from his body. Pietro held on for as long as he could before trying in vain to breathe in water. Once again, his head was forced up and Pietro took in the air hungrily, as if he would never have enough to fill his lungs.

He braced himself for another drowning experience but the man did not push his head down again. The man tried to make him stand, heaving him to his feet, but Pietro's legs wouldn't support him and he immediately fell again.

"Get up." He ordered, irritation coming off him in waves as Pietro didn't move.

Letting out a frustrated breath, the man took hold of the chains around Pietro's wrists and dragged him back to the room where he was kept previously. Pietro half-blinked open his eyes drowsily, his sight was blurred from exhaustion and the water. His already cut back scraped against the floor, sending pain lancing through his limp body.

"We sent a documentary to your little friends yesterday." The man told him, lifting Pietro off the ground and attaching the chain around his wrists to the hook on the ceiling. "So they've seen what you've been up to."

Pietro didn't show him a physical reaction. _Jesus Christ,_ he thought to himself. _Has Wanda seen?_ It had been three days since the man had promised to destroy him and Pietro felt like he was close to succeeding.

He had been whipped every day, each session worse than the last. He now had burn marks running down the left side of his torso, having been hit with a burning, hot, metal stick for a considerable amount of time by the man a day ago. He hadn't slept, the man didn't allow it. The only breaks he had, was when the man adjusted his grip on his selected torture weapon.

Pietro gritted his teeth as pain slashed over his back. He was being whipped again. It was only when the man reopened another scar from previous whippings that Pietro started to scream.

 _I can't take this much longer._


	5. Chapter 5

"Sir!"

The man halted in his whippings and Pietro gasped with relief, stopping his pained screams and relaxing his body, hanging limply from his wrists. He looked up to see a blurred image of a blonde woman standing in the open doorway; she looked flustered.

"What?" The man growled. "Can't you see I'm busy?"

The woman cast a quick glance at Pietro, who was shivering from exhaustion as he gasped in the air.

"Sir, there's…" She paused. "There's been a complication."

"What kind of complication?" The man asked, following her gaze suspiciously.

Quickly snapping her attention back to him, she walked over and whispered something to him, too quiet for Pietro to hear.

"How many!?" He yelled, making her leap a pace back.

"Th-the entirety of the east wing sir. Everyone in it." She stuttered, fearful of her master's anger. "There was an explosion."

The man let out an irritated yell and took his frustration out on Pietro, aiming a hefty kick at his chest. Pietro let out a gasp of pain as a rib, on the left side of his torso, cracked. His breathing turned ragged and hoarse, every intake hurt.

"Who was it?" The man asked, turning his gaze back to the woman.

"We don't know! They were too fast." The woman took another step back as the man's face contorted with anger. "They might be coming for him." She suggested, motioning to Pietro. "We should move him somewhere they can't find him."

"Oh, there will be no need for that." His voice was suddenly icy calm. "If they get in here…" He took a gun from its hold on his waist and loaded it. "Then I'll shoot him in the head."

The woman swallowed, but nodded and turned heel, walking out of the room.

The man smiled cruelly at Pietro. "Maybe it's your sister." He sounded oddly gentle. "We'll see how she reacts when I murder you in front of her."

Pietro didn't reply, not even flinching as the man slashed the whip across his cheek, immediately drawing blood. He was whipped over and over, lashed growing harder when the man didn't get an immediate response. Pietro used his remaining strength to push out several screams as the man whipped him even harsher than before. A hand suddenly grasped his neck, blocking his windpipe, abruptly cutting off his shrieks with a choke.

"Or maybe…" The man whispered in his ear, voice cold. "I'll kill her instead. See if-"

He broke off as a gunshot sounded. The pressure on Pietro's neck lifted and he heard a thump as the man crumpled to the ground. Pietro let his head hang, chest heaving as he weakly fought in the air, half bracing himself for death as he heard rushed footsteps coming towards him. A slashing sound met Pietro's ears and the chains on his wrists, holding him up were cut. He fell to his knees and an arm wrapped around his chest, preventing him from falling forwards.

"It's alright. It's okay. I've got you."

Pietro blinked open his eyes for a second, letting them close again as the person cut the chains around his ankles. He was lifted into the air and slung over the persons shoulders. The pain from his ribs, and from the burns down the side of his torso, intensified and he let out a weak, quiet, moan.

"It's okay." The person repeated, beginning to run, holding Pietro in a fireman's lift. "Hang on. I'm going to get you out of here. I promise."

* * *

Pietro was dropped on the ground.

He felt dry leaves crunching beneath his fingers and opened his eyes a fraction. Blurred trees loomed above him, their leafy branches reaching high into the grey, clouded sky. It was dusk; the sky was growing increasingly darker as the hidden sun sunk below the horizon. Someone fell down beside him. They were panting heavily, their breath blowing warm against Pietro's cheek. As strength left his body, Pietro allowed his eyes to flicker shut, concentrating on drawing in deep gasping breaths.

"We made it." The person next to him murmured.

Pietro heard a shuffling sound as they got up, but didn't open his eyes. He coughed weakly, blood rising in his throat and blocking his breathing. A hand pushed his shoulder and he was moved to the side, choking. He coughed up the blood, spitting it from his mouth onto the ground. A dim noise sounded above him and the person carefully rolled him back, so he was facing up. A hand took hold of his jaw, gently forcing his mouth open. Water splashed past his lips and began to trickle down his throat.

"Swallow it." A soft voice ordered.

Pietro obeyed, painfully gulping down the liquid. Something brushed down his chest and the person lifted his shirt, exposing the left of his torso. Fingers brushed the burn marks, making Pietro wince slightly. A hand touched the side of his face, gently stroking back his pale hair. He flickered open his eyes, seeing a dark shadow of a man leaning over him. He let out a quiet gasp.

It was Clint.

"You…" Pietro breathed the words, barely loud enough to hear. "It-It's you." He blinked slowly, pushing tears from his eyes. "This is a d-dream. You can't…" He paused to take in a shivering breath. "Can't be here. You-"

Clint moved his hand to Pietro's cheek, brushing away the tears with his thumb.

"It's me." He whispered. "I'm here."

Pietro lowered his voice so Clint had to strain to hear his words. "You died… and I… I waited."

Clint shook his head despairingly. "No." He murmured quietly, a single tear sliding down his face. "I'm sorry. I-" He broke off as Pietro shut his eyes.

A small sigh escaped the younger man's lips and a trickle of blood worked its way down from the corner of his mouth. Clint hurriedly pressed two fingers to Pietro's neck, near the bottom of his jaw. His pulse was slow and faint.

"Don't die, don't die." Clint pleaded quietly. "Pietro, please."

He carefully raised the younger man onto his lap. Leaning down, he put his ear close to Pietro's slightly parted mouth. He was barely breathing. It seemed like he was too tired to move any air. Clint brushed back his white, wavy hair and rested his forehead on Pietro's.

A muffled yell echoed from somewhere deeper in the woods. Clint leapt up, looking around wildly. _They're chasing us._

He crouched beside Pietro. "Kid, we have to move." He whispered urgently.

Pietro didn't respond, keeping his eyes closed, laying still. Motionless. Clint let out a desperate breath, jerking his head up as someone shouted again. It was closer this time. They were catching up. Leaning down, Clint carefully picked Pietro up in his arms, lifting him over his shoulders.

Then he ran.


	6. Chapter 6

A loud bang echoed through the woods.

Clint stumbled as a sharp pain stabbed at his leg. But he kept running. The cold wind whipped his face as he dodged through the dark trees. A shout echoed from behind him and he sprinted faster, adjusting his grip on Pietro, who was hanging limply over his shoulders, as he went. He needed to get Pietro back to the tower. He was so close. Just four more miles.

Three.

Two.

An agent leapt in front of him and he skidded to a halt, stirring up leaves. The man walked towards Clint threateningly, pointing a gun at him.

"Give him to me and I'll let you live." He growled, motioning to Pietro's limp form.

"Don't you touch him." Clint warned, still catching his breath. "Don't you dare."

The man took another step forward and Clint jumped at him, kicking him into the trunk of a maple tree. He aimed another kick to the side of the man's head, knocking him out. Footsteps echoed through the trees and Clint spun around, seeing dark shapes of more agents running through the forest towards him.

He darted behind a tree, dropping Pietro beside him. He took his, folded, bow from its hold on his waist and straightened it, notching an arrow in the string. _I'm running out of arrows._ Pietro stirred beside him, blinking his eyes open. He looked to his left, eyes dull, and parted his lips slightly to speak.

Clint put a hand over Pietro's mouth, preventing any sound from escaping. A dark shadow raced past, feet thumping loudly on the forest floor. Raising a hand, Pietro weakly pushed Clint's arm away.

"H-How did you survive?" He stuttered in a hushed voice. "Why d-didn't…"

"Time and a place. Later." Clint promised quietly, edging to the right as a second agent ran past. He silently loosed an arrow from his bow, embedding it in the agent's neck; the man fell to the ground, dead. "Just keep quiet, we're nearly there."

Pietro swallowed, panting as he fought in the air. He looked as though he might say something but all that came out was a quiet sigh and his eyes rolled back in his head, eyelids flickering shut. Clint stroked his fingers down Pietro's cheek before glancing round the tree. There was no one in sight. He quickly folded his bow and fastened it into its hold. He gathered Pietro up in his arms, carefully lifting him over his shoulders, and continued running, sprinting as fast as he could for two miles.

* * *

Clint finally reached the avengers tower, panting heavily, his legs feeling like they could barely support him anymore. He didn't stop running though. He hadn't stopped, only when he had to fight back agents who crossed his path.

He hid behind a sign as a group of shield agents walked past, waiting for them to leave before he raced through the front doors. All of the avengers were in the lobby, suited up for, what was presumably a mission to find Pietro. Skidding to a halt in the centre of the room, Clint locked gazes with Natasha. She stared at him, her eyes wide with shock.

Legs giving in, he collapsed on the floor, Pietro falling from his grasp and onto the ground beside him. Clint forced himself not to lie down, taking deep gulping breaths from his hands and knees. Natasha crouched beside him, hurriedly laying her hand on his heart and pushing him to his knees. His eyes wandered around Natasha's face, trying to read her expression. She was looking at him like he'd just fallen from the sky; shocked and a little sad.

"This can't be real." She finally whispered, shaking her head slightly.

Clint swallowed, regaining control of his breathing. "You haven't got any water have you?"

Natasha made a face like ' _Are you kidding me!?_ ' and her hand flew at his cheek. He rubbed his stinging skin, partly relishing her action. He had missed her feisty stubbornness.

"That was for lying." Natasha informed him crossly, before briefly wrapping her arms around his shoulders in a hug. "And that was for coming back."

"Pietro?"

Clint whipped round at the sound of Wanda's quiet voice. She was leant over her brother, her fingers to his neck, checking his pulse. His eyes were shut and he didn't look like he was breathing. Wanda kept adjusting her fingers and Clint quickly scrambled over to her.

"I can't feel a pulse." She whimpered.

Clint fought back his fear and pressed his own fingers to Pietro's neck. It took him a while to find it, vibrating faintly though his fingers. He looked at Pietro closely, relief surging through him as he noticed the faint rise and fall of the younger man's chest.

"It's there." He assured Wanda quietly. "It's just very weak."

Wanda narrowed her eyes in pity and grief, and Clint gently took Pietro in his arms, lifting him off the floor. Steve put a hand to his shoulder, stopping him before he could make his way up to a medical room.

"I'll take him." He offered. "Go get yourself sorted out."

A second of hesitation followed his words before Clint nodded and passed Pietro to him. He watched as Steve carried the younger man away, Wanda following him.

Clint swayed on his feet, suddenly feeling lightheaded, and Natasha steadied him with a hand.

"Careful." She warned.

"I'm always careful." Clint muttered, provoking a small exhale of amusement from Natasha.

"Yeah, right." She replied sarcastically. "I'll believe it when I see it."

She had barely finished her sentence before Clint staggered again, nearly falling over. Natasha held him upright, her arm around his chest.

"Hey, hey Clint." She murmured, gripping the side of his neck with a hand; his eyelids were fluttering, seeming to be struggling to keep them open. "Come on, eyes open."

Clint blinked a few times, trying to clear his clouding vision.

"Sorry, I have to sit down for a minute." He murmured, taking a few steps to the side and sitting on the floor, with his back to the wall.

Natasha noticed he was limping and tilted her head to one side slightly. Crouching beside him, she ran a hand down the back of his right calf. Clint winced slightly and she paused. Moving round, she sat on his right and lifted his trouser leg up to his knee.

"Tony can you get me a medical kit please?" She asked, catching sight of the bullet wound, which was dripping with dark scarlet blood, a considerable amount already half dried on the back of Clint's leg.

Tony nodded and waved a hand to his suit, which was standing beside him. It walked away, heavy feet clunking on the shined floor. Clint saw Natasha roll her eyes fondly as the suit reappeared a moment later, handing her a green box with a white plus printed on it. She quickly opened it and took out a clean cloth, pressing it to Clint injury.

"You should've treated this sooner." She said, mopping the blood off his leg.

"Didn't have time." Clint replied, dropping his head back against the wall.

Curiosity burned inside Natasha. _What have you been doing for a week? Why did you fake your own death?_ She longed to ask the questions but, instead, busied herself bandaging Clint's wound.

"Where did Steve take Pietro?" Clint asked when she had finished tying the bandage to his leg.

"Medical room." She answered unhelpfully.

Clint pushed his hands against the floor, scrambling to his feet.

"I really think you should rest." Natasha said, getting up beside him.

"I'll do it later." Clint promised absently. "I just want to see if he's okay."

"He didn't look okay." Natasha murmured.

Clint cast her a look from the corner of his eye and began to limp forward. She appeared next to him, ready to catch him if he fell again.

"So where is he?" Clint asked again, hoping for a clearer answer this time.

Natasha sighed silently, realising that Clint wouldn't rest until he'd seen Pietro.

"Follow me."


	7. Chapter 7

The sound of an elevator vibrated in Pietro's ears, gradually growing louder as he focused on it more.

Pain shot through his body, sharp in his chest and back. Someone was holding him in their arms, one arm on his back, the other tucked under his legs. _It was a dream,_ He told himself, keeping his eyes shut. _Clint's dead, I'm still in that place._ He shuffled, trying to struggle free of the person's hold.

"Don't move." A soft, male voice ordered. "Stay still, you're going to be okay."

Pietro flickered open his eyes. His eyesight was blurred and cloudy and he blinked a few times to clear it. He still couldn't see very well. A dark shadow of a person walked over to him and he flinched away, letting out a quiet whine.

"It's okay." A new, gentle voice murmured, sensing his fear. "It's me."

"W…" He paused to take in the air. "Wanda?"

His sister reached out a hand, gently stroking Pietro's cheek. "That's right. Stay conscious, you'll be fine."

"Where… Where am I?" He whispered, stuttering and pausing occasionally to catch his breath. "I thought..."

Wanda hushed him and put a finger to his lips, silencing him. "Don't speak brother." She laid her hand on the side of his face. "Save your strength."

"I'm tired." He whimpered.

Swallowing back her tears, Wanda softly caressed his cheek. "I know, but it's okay. You're safe now." She promised.

The elevator shuddered to a halt and Pietro closed his eyes as the doors opened. He felt darkness creeping up on him. His body relaxed completely, welcoming the calm of sleep.

* * *

Steve carefully laid Pietro on the hospital bed; the head of it was against the centre of the back wall. He took a step back as Wanda rushed up to her brother.

She sat on the edge of his bed, brushing his pale hair from his equally pale face. He weakly murmured something in his sleep and rolled to his side, his back to Wanda. She frowned, catching sight of the blood that had soaked through his shirt, which was torn and ripped beyond repair. Hesitantly reaching out a hand, she lifted the back of his shirt slightly, eyes widening and carefully taking it off of him as she saw his wounds. Behind her, Steve caught his breath.

Long, red slashes criss-crossed Pietro's back, some still bleeding, dripping dark, scarlet blood down his remaining skin.

"What have they done to him?" Steve whispered.

"You saw the video." Wanda murmured, her voice cracking slightly. "They tortured him."

She, gently, rolled Pietro back so he was facing up and ran her hand over his ribs on each side. His body tensed, wincing as her hand brushed a burn. It looked as though someone had pressed a burning, hot metal bar repeatedly to the left side of his torso. _Maybe they had,_ Wanda thought to herself.

"I think he's broken a few ribs." She told Steve quietly. "And there might be even more damage that we can't see."

Pietro's eyes fluttered open and he let out a quiet whine of pain. Feeling warm tears prickling her eyes, Wanda stroked her hand to his cheek, hushing him softly. He flicked his cloudy gaze to her, parting his mouth to speak. She leant close to him, taking hold of his head and hugging it gently.

Pietro's breath stirred her ear. "Cold." He whispered the word. "So cold."

Wanda pressed against him comfortingly. "I know." She murmured quietly, tears slipping slowly down her face. "I know."

* * *

The door opened quietly and Wanda sat up, brushing away the tears and looking over her shoulder. Clint shut the door silently and quickly walked over to Pietro, limping slightly. _This is technically his fault;_ a voice in Wanda's mind told her. _He lied. His lies hurt my brother._ She scattered the thought with a twitch of her head.

"We should get the doctors." Steve murmured, turning towards the door.

"No, wait. Don't." Wanda pleaded, making him freeze. "He's confused and scared… I can help him."

A moment of hesitation followed, before Steve gave a small nod. Wanda let out a quiet breath of relief, and muttered her thanks as Steve walked out of the room.

She turned back to her brother. His unfocused gaze was wandering about the ceiling, looking tired and, as Wanda had predicted, confused. His body was suddenly shaken by a painful coughing fit and he shut his eyes tightly. Wanda laid her hand on the side of his face, stroking his cheek gently. As his coughing eased, she moved her hand to his forehead. He was burning.

"He's a bit feverish." Wanda murmured to Clint, who was sitting on Pietro's other side.

That was an understatement. Wanda knew.

"Clint…" Natasha murmured as the archer pressed his fingers to Pietro's neck, checking his pulse. "You know everyone thinks you're dead, right?"

"I know." Clint replied, quietly.

"Well… Shouldn't we, you know, clear that up?"

Clint shook his head. "No, let them think that."

"But-"

"Please Nat." Clint turned to face her as he said this. "No one can know. I need to keep this a secret and you can't ask why. I'm only here for Pietro, because he would have died if he had stayed in that place much longer."

"Did you see what they did to him?" Wanda asked, almost whispering.

Clint nodded sadly, looking back at Pietro. "I saw." Then his eyes hardened. "I saw for the five seconds in which I was loading a gun, before I shot the guy who was doing it in the head."

Natasha blinked in astonishment. She couldn't remember Clint _ever_ sounding that violent. Then she remembered the video they had been sent and understood the archer's anger, a jolt of red-hot hatred surging through her. The torture that Pietro had endured would have probably killed a weaker man. And they had only seen about twenty minutes of it. Turning her gaze back to Pietro, she saw that his eyes were shut, his body completely motionless. One hand- the left- was laid over his bare chest, the other limp at his side. Wanda took hold of her brother's right hand, raising it to her lips and kissing his white knuckles softly. Pietro blinked open his eyes, resting his cloudy gaze on his sister.

"Wanda?" He whispered the name. "Wh-Where am I?"

"Hush now Brother." Wanda murmured gently. "You're in the tower… Go back to sleep." She ordered quietly. "I'll keep you safe. I promise."

Pietro swallowed, tears forming in his eyes, blurring his vision.

Taking in a silent breath, he breathed out the next words as a sigh; only just loud enough to hear. "I love you."

His eyes fluttered shut, only just hearing Wanda's reply before he fell asleep again.

"I love you too."


	8. Chapter 8

"I hope you can forgive me Pietro."

Clint was sat on the edge of the younger man's bed, speaking to him softly. Even though he was asleep, Clint still felt like he needed to talk to him. No one else was in the room; the others had been called to a meeting with Nick Fury. But, since everyone else thought Clint was dead, he had offered to stay with Pietro.

The odd thing is… Wanda had seemed strangely reluctant to leave her brother alone with the archer. _Doesn't she trust me?_ Clint asked himself. _Well, she's got a good reason hasn't she? You are a pathetic excuse for a person. You faked your own death, and what good did it do? None at all. All you're good for is disappointing and hurting people._

"I wouldn't have done it if I had another option." He continued the one-sided conversation quietly. "I didn't have a choice. You'll want to know why, I know. But I can't tell you. As much as I want to, I just can't. And…" He hesitated, taking in a deep breath. "And I'm sorry." Swallowing, he felt tears threatening his vision.

"I'm sorry, because this is all my fault… None of this would have happened if it wasn't for me. Life would have been easier for you if you had just let Ultron kill me... I could've thrown that kid out the way in time. You didn't have to…"

Pietro stirred slightly and he broke off. The younger man let out a low moan, rolling his head slowly to the side. His arm dropped off the side of the bed, hanging limply in the air. Clint reached across Pietro's body, taking hold of his wrist and gently pulled it back up, laying his hand over his stomach. As Clint was stroking his hand down the back of Pietro's, he saw the injured man's fingers twitch, making him freeze. Pietro turned his palm upwards and tucked his fingers under Clint's, grasping his hand weakly. Flickering open his misty, blue eyes, Pietro's gaze wandered around the room before it finally rested on Clint. The archer buried his pity, the corner of his mouth twitching in the beginnings of a smile.

"Hey Kid." He murmured. "Are you feeling any better?"

Pietro shut his eyes again, letting out a quiet sigh. "How could you do that?" He whispered. "I don't understand."

Clint swallowed uncomfortably, knowing exactly what he was talking about. "It's complicated. And I'm sorry, I can't tell you."

"But you-"

"Don't you get it!?" Worry made Clint lose his temper for a second. "As long as I'm here, then you're in danger! Everyone around me is in da-."

His voice faltered as the door opened. A doctor came in. Her back was to Clint as she shut the door behind her. The archer dived under Pietro's bed, out of sight, trying to make his breathing as quiet as possible. _What's she doing in here?_ He asked himself as he saw her walk over to Pietro; he could only see her from below the knees. _Wanda said she didn't want anyone in here._

"You." He heard Pietro croak, his voice was sharp with realisation.

"Greetings Maximoff." The woman replied, coldly.

"Wha-"

Pietro's voice stopped abruptly, cutting off with a startled choke. Immediately realising something was terribly wrong, Clint swung his leg round, sweeping the woman's feet from under her. Quickly rolling out from under the bed, Clint leapt on top of her, pulling a knife from her belt and holding the blade to her neck. She froze, glaring up at him through eyes narrowed with hatred. Clint cast a look over his shoulder at Pietro. He was shaking violently, his body convulsing. Clint stabbed the knife into the woman's arm, digging it deep into the floor, pinning her down. He sprang up, sprinting to Pietro's side.

The younger man stared up at him, eyes wide with shock and fear, his jaws open in a soundless wail of terror. His chest heaved as he desperately tried to force in the air, but he wasn't succeeding. White foam was frothing at his parted mouth, and his body was still trembling, yet his struggles were growing weaker by the second. An injection needle was still stuck halfway in the side of his neck and Clint hurriedly pulled it out, throwing it on the floor.

"Pietro! Pietro, can you hear me!?" Clint called to the man, who was spluttering on the foam.

"What's happening!?"

Clint spun round, a spark of relief flickering inside him as Wanda ran up to her brother. She took his head in her hands, stroking back his hair and desperately calling his name. Hovering her hand over his heart, a shroud of red mist encased Wanda's fingers, scanning her brother's body for harmful substances. She moved her hand to the side of his neck, curling her fingers slightly and drawing a transparent liquid from his body. With a flick of her hand, she made it fly over to a bowl, on a table in the corner of the room and deposited it quickly. As it was taken from his neck, Pietro let out a relieved, exhausted sigh and his body went limp. Head dropping slightly to the side, his eyes glazed over. His glassy gaze stared at nothing, blank and unblinking.

Clint blinked in shock, grief overwhelming him. "Pietro…" He whispered, voice cracking with sorrow. "No…"

Pietro's body was still, motionless apart from the watery froth that trickled from his parted lips. Memory overwhelmed Clint. Pietro had worn the same blank expression when he had almost died during the battle with Ultron. Reaching out a hand, Wanda carefully rested her thumb and index finger on her brother's eyelids, gently closing his eyes.

"Wanda…" Clint swallowed. "He-he can't…"

"He's not dead." Wanda interrupted him, tears glistening in her eyes. "But that was close… too close."

Her gaze hardened and she turned to glare at the woman, struggling on the floor, the knife still embedded in her arm. Wanda raised a hand, shooting scarlet from her finger tips and taking out the knife, suspending it in the air. The woman scrambled up, her blonde hair ruffled. In a flash she had reached the door but, when she tried, it would not open. Wanda whipped her hand to the side, thrusting the woman against the wall and keeping her there, raised slightly off the ground.

"What did you do to him?" She hissed angrily, lifting the knife with her powers and pointing the sharp end to the woman's throat. "What did you do to my brother?"

"Why don't you get one of your friends to find out?" The woman spat back, trying to sound tough even though fear lit her gaze. "He is but a waste. He deserves the death I had planned!"

Wanda's hand trembled. She wanted to stab the knife into the woman's throat, to feel the life drain from her body. But instead she flicked her hand, sending the woman flying across the room. She hit the wall with a thump, falling to the floor and not getting up. Collapsing to her knees, Wanda buried her face in her hands, sobbing uncontrollably. Clint raced over to her, wrapping his arms around her shoulders and pulling her into a hug. She cried for a long time, her tears dripping onto Clint's shirt.

The door opened quietly and Clint looked over his shoulder to see Natasha walk in.

"Clint…" She murmured.

The archer stood up, resting his hand on Wanda's shoulder for a heartbeat before walking over to the far right corner of the room. Natasha's gaze followed him curiously and then her eyes flicked to the blonde woman, who was lying near the left wall.

"Could you have Bruce analyse this?" Clint asked, coming over and passing her the bowl. "This sounds stupid but don't drink any, I suggest you don't get it on your skin either."

Natasha frowned at such a basic order, but did not question him. "Right, will do."

She cast a final look at Wanda, who was getting to her feet, before turning away and hurrying down the corridor.

* * *

Clint looked down at Pietro, his gaze mournful.

Reaching out a hand, he tucked it under the younger man's head, lifting it slightly. He gently pressed a cloth to Pietro's lips, wiping away the foam. He could feel Pietro's weak breath, blowing on his hand. The woman had been taken down to the lowest level, which was below the ground, - the level for any prisoners the avengers captured- and locked up. Wanda was in her room, advised to get some sleep by Clint.

A loud bang met Clint's ears and he twisted to look over his shoulder, startled. Bruce raced into the room, his hair messy, sticking up in places. He held up a see-through pouch. Clint recognised the liquid that had been injected into Pietro's neck.

"Where the hell did you get this!?" Bruce asked, sounding fearful.

Clint raised a finger to his lips, making a quiet hushing noise, and pointed to Pietro. Bruce shut his mouth tightly and Clint resumed washing away the remaining froth on Pietro's lips. Sitting down on the bed next to Clint, Bruce lowered his voice and repeated his question.

"Where did you get this?"

"Why?" Clint deliberately didn't answer. "What is it?"

"It's Cirynic." Bruce replied, supressing a shudder. "A deadly poison. Extremely hard to find. If injected into the body it kills a person in exactly one minute, and there's nothing anyone can do about it. There is no cure and no one's ever survived it. Now, tell me where you got it."

"Someone's survived it." Clint murmured, carefully laying Pietro's head back down.

Bruce's eyes widened in shock, looking from Pietro to Clint and back. "Did... Did…"

Clint nodded. "A woman came in here and injected it into Pietro's neck. Wanda took it out." Clint swallowed. "I thought he had died."

Bruce ran his fingers through his scruffy hair. "Oh god…"

"What's going to happen to him? Is he going to be okay?" Clint asked, turning to face Bruce.

"I-I don't know." The scientist admitted. "Like I said, no one's ever survived it before. So I don't know what happens next or…" He paused, a thoughtful expression on his face. "Hang on; I just want to do some tests."

Bruce gently lifted Pietro's left hand and took his pulse. He then stroked one finger lightly down Pietro's forearm. Frowning, he laid Pietro's hand back down and pinched his arm. Pietro didn't respond, confirming Bruce's fears.

Bruce turned to Clint, his face grim. "He's in a coma."


	9. Chapter 9

Darkness.

Clint felt himself being shoved from behind and stumbled forward a pace. A hand roughly stopped him and pulled the blindfold off of his face. He blinked a few times, adjusting to the new light. The room he was standing in was grey and dull; a prison cell was visible on the far right of the left wall.

"Good Evening Barton."

Clint turned his head sharply to the right side. _Yegor._ The Russian man was smiling at him coldly, cruelly. Clint had encountered him before, on a mission when he was part of shield. This guy was a complete maniac. He was a supposed suicide bomber, but he always came back somehow. He just enjoyed the pain and suffering of others.

"Clint?"

Immediately recognising the voice, Clint fought free of the strong grip of the man holding him and ran over to the Prison cell. His heart leapt to his throat. Inside the cell was his wife, Laura, she was gripping the bars on the door of the cell. His two sons, Cooper and Nathaniel, ages nine and three, and seven year old daughter, Lila, were huddled in a corner.

"Lau-"

He broke off as Yegor forcibly pulled him away from the cell, pushing him against the opposite wall of the room.

"You remember me, don't you?" He asked, demandingly. "You remember how you killed everyone I ever cared for?"

Clint froze. He knew what Yegor was talking about. The man's brother, daughter and wife had been in the building Shield had stormed. That same building had been bombed by Hydra. Many good agents and civilians had died and Clint had been terribly injured, though had miraculously survived. Yegor blamed him, simply because their bodies had been recovered, from the wreckage of the building, close to Clint.

"That wasn't my-"

A clenched fist met his jaw and he coughed, spluttering at the taste of his own blood. Laura called his name fearfully and Yegor pulled out his gun, pointing it at Cooper. Laura quickly, kneeled in front of her children, taking them in her arms, trying to protect them with her body. Yegor lowered his gun slightly as Clint leapt in the line of fire.

"Leave them alone." He ordered. "You want to kill someone? Kill me."

"Your wife and children will die…" Yegor promised him. "Unless-"

"Unless what?" Clint interrupted.

A cruel smile spilt Yegor's face. "Unless you take me into the avenger's tower, and let me shoot you in front of your friends."

Clint narrowed his eyes, hatred burning in his stomach. "I don't trust you. You'll kill my family anyway, and then you'll try and kill the avengers."

"I understand if you need some time to consider my offer… You have four days."

"Four?" Clint frowned in confusion. _Why such a specific number?_ "Why four?"

"Because that's how many of your friends I will murder if you don't give me an answer. And if you go to them for help, I will shoot your family where they stand." Yegor waved a hand to the two men on either side of Clint. "Take him away. Make sure you don't forget to blindfold him! Otherwise they will know where we are hiding!"

"Yes sir." The men bowed to their, supposed, leader and began to force Clint away.

"Clint!" Laura yelled, leaving Cooper, Lila and Nathaniel and running up to the metal bars separating her and her husband.

"Laura!" Clint struggled against the men's strong holds. "I won't leave you! I'll find a way to sort this." He promised. "Cooper." He called to his son, who was hugging his brother and sister tightly. "Look after your mother!"

Cooper put on a brave face and nodded solemnly. "I will Dad."

One of the men slammed a fist down on Clint's head, clouding his vision. The last thing he heard were the heart wrenching sobs of his daughter, Lila.

"Daddy!"

* * *

Wanda eased her mind from Clint's, finding herself trembling. Now she knew the truth. The reason Clint had faked his own death. His family had been in danger. He had pretended to be dead so Yegor wouldn't hurt the avengers and so he could rescue his family.

She turned her gaze to Pietro. Her brother was still in a deep coma, motionless apart from the slow, faint rise and fall of his chest. Clint was sat on the other side of the bed, his sad eyes fixed on Pietro. _Where are Clint's family now?_ She wondered, closing her eyes and searching through Clint's memories.

* * *

"Come on Cooper. We're nearly there."

Clint looked over his shoulder. His wife was holding Nathaniel in her arms, Cooper running at her side. The nine year old was panting heavily, falling behind a little. Clint, still running, adjusted his hold on Lila, who was cradled in his arms.

After a short while, the cottage came into view between the thick clusters of trees. This was a safe house Clint had made, in case the farm was discovered by enemies. _I hope the others are okay,_ Clint thought to himself. He was, of course, thinking about the avengers. Mainly Pietro. _I lied to him… How could I do that?_

He quickly reached the door of the cottage and took the key from a pocket on his black trousers, opening the door for Laura and Cooper. They sprinted inside and Clint followed, locking the door behind him. Cooper leant with his back to the wall in the entrance hall, breathing fast. He raised a hand, swiping brown strands of hair from his fringe off his face.

Clint put Lila down and crouched in front of him, drawing Cooper into a hug.

"Well done." He murmured. "I'm proud of you."

His son didn't reply, just hugging his father tighter.

A vibrating noise met Clint's ears and he frowned, releasing Cooper and taking his phone from the pocket. He made a motion to Laura, letting her know he had to take this and she nodded, placing a kiss on his cheek as he passed her. He walked through a door into another room, the lounge, and looked at his phone. Someone had sent him a video. He tapped his thumb to the screen, playing it.

 _Pietro._

Pietro's wrists were raised above his head, chains attached to the ceiling. As Clint watched, a man- presumably one of Yegor's agents- slashed a whip across Pietro's back. The white haired man tensed, gritting his teeth as he was whipped again and again. His mouth parted and, though his phone's sound was off, Clint knew he was screaming.

Shutting his eyes, Clint put his phone back in his pocket and walked back through the door. Laura must have seen his grim expression.

"What?" She asked hesitantly. "What's wrong?"

"I have to go back." Clint murmured, taking a belt, with a hold on it, from a hook on the wall by the door.

Laura immediately shook her head. "You can't. Why would-"

"They've got Pietro."

She froze, her eyes drifting to Nathaniel, who was asleep on Cooper's lap like a cat. His wavy, light blonde hair reminded Clint of Pietro a little.

"I'm sorry. I have to go." He told her. "If anyone comes here, follow the passage under the kitchen floor. It leads to the tower. And if you don't hear from me within a week-"

"Don't say that…" Laura mumbled.

Clint put his hand on the back of her head and kissed her softly. "I'll try not to do anything stupid." He promised when they broke apart, making her smile a little.

He turned and crouched down, hugging each of his children in turn. "Bye Kids. Be good."

Finishing his goodbyes, Clint shut the front door behind him and looked out into the forest. The sun was directly above him, yet hidden by a thick blanket of grey clouds. Clint began to run, forcing himself not to look back as he dodged through the trees.

"I'm coming Pietro." He whispered under his breath. "I'm coming."

* * *

"Wanda?"

Opening her eyes, Wanda felt tears on her cheeks and raised a hand, brushing them away. Clint was watching her worriedly.

"Are you okay?" He asked, obviously oblivious to the fact that Wanda had been scanning his memories.

"Why didn't you tell us?" She whispered quietly.

Clint frowned, looking genuinely confused. "Tell you what?"

"About Yegor… About him capturing your family."

Eyes widening, Clint stared at her. "How did… Have you been looking through my mind?"

Wanda nodded, guilt surging through her.

Clint sighed, making Wanda stiffen. She had expected him to be furious; he didn't sound it. He just sounded sad.

"He was going to kill them." He murmured quietly. "I couldn't let that happen. I did what I had to. I… I thought if he believed me to be dead then he'd leave you guys alone… Do you understand?" He asked, sounding almost worried.

Wanda nodded. "I understand."

She looked back at her brother. He hadn't moved. His eyes were still shut, his body still motionless.

"Do you think he can hear us?" Wanda questioned aloud.

Clint hesitated before answering. "I don't know... Perhaps."

Narrowing her eyes in sympathy, Wanda reached out, taking hold of her brother's limp hand and lifting it off his torso. She rested her lips on Pietro's knuckles, shutting her eyes. Swallowing back her tears, she pressed the back of Pietro's hand to her cheek. Clint stayed silent, not interrupting until a single tear splashed from Wanda's eyelashes onto her cheek.

"Are you alright?" He asked quietly.

She took in a deep breath, letting it out slowly, and kissed the back of her brother's hand. "I miss him." She admitted, gently laying his hand back over his stomach.

"He's still here." Clint murmured.

"He's not though, is he?" Wanda replied sadly. "For all we know he might never wake up." Her voice cracked with grief and she shut her eyes, raising a hand to wipe away her tears.

"He will, Wanda." Clint assured her. "We have to believe that." He turned his gaze back to Pietro. "He's strong, and he's a fighter. He's not going to let this beat him."

Though, looking down at Pietro's pale form, Clint began to wonder if strong was the right word.


	10. Chapter 10

Clint raised the phone to his ear.

"Please pick up, come on." He muttered under his breath.

A moment later.

"Clint?"

Clint silently sighed with relief. "Laura. Are you and the kids alright?"

"We're fine." His wife's voice echoed down the mobile. "Are you okay? What about Pietro?"

"I'm alright…" He paused. "I found Pietro; we're back at the tower. You need to come through the passage right now. I'll meet you at this end. The-"

"Honey," Laura interrupted him gently. "Is Pietro okay?"

Another pause.

"He's not is he?" Laura murmured. "What did they do? Did they hurt him?"

"It's a long story. I'll explain everything when you get here." Clint promised. "You'll be safer here than there."

Laura hesitated as if she was about to argue that he tell her now. "Okay." She eventually agreed. "Okay, meet us at the end of the tunnel in an hour."

"I'll be there."

"Oh, and be prepared for a kid bombardment."

Clint smiled. "I look forward to it. Love you."

"I love you too. Bye."

Laura hung up and Clint pocketed his phone. He turned his gaze back to Pietro and sighed sadly.

"Still not waking up, huh?"

Pietro didn't respond, remaining motionless with his eyes shut. Clint sighed again, laying his hand on Pietro's, which was lying limp at his side. He gently, subconsciously, stroked his fingers down the back of Pietro's hand. Frowning slightly, he turned the younger man's hand over so his wrist was facing up. There was a white shadow of a slash across his pale skin.

"Kid…" Clint whispered aloud. "Oh, Pietro. I'm sorry."

He took Pietro's head in his hands, raising it slightly off the bed. Resting his forehead on Pietro's, Clint felt warm tears prickling the corners of his eyes and shut them tightly to stop any of the salty droplets from escaping.

"I love you." Clint breathed to words. "But not like that… Like a son I guess." He exhaled a quiet breath. "You have no idea what I would give to have you wake up now."

He opened his eyes, half expecting Pietro to awaken at his words. But he did not.

Clint lowered Pietro's head, gently laying it back down. It dropped to the side slightly, falling limp on the bed. Clint narrowed his eyes in sympathy and reached out a hand, laying it on his wavy hair. Pietro's throat suddenly convulsed and Clint drew his hand back. White, watery froth rose in his mouth, spilling over his lips. Clint carefully rolled Pietro's body to the left, so he was lying on his side. He quickly picked up a cloth from the desk beside the bed, pressing it to the younger man's mouth. Pietro let out a few piteous choking sounds, foam trickling from his parted lips.

Clint hushed him softly, wiping away the white froth with one hand and stroking Pietro's head comfortingly with the other. "Shhh, it's okay. It's okay."

His spluttering coughs soon dissolved into silence, letting out a quiet sigh and falling still once more. Clint exhaled a relieved breath and dropped the cloth back down on the table.

"There you go Kid…" He murmured, running his fingers, repeatedly, through Pietro's hair. "You're alright."

The door opened and Wanda came in, walking over to her brother.

"Has he moved or… Anything?" She asked immediately, sitting down on the side of the bed opposite to Clint.

"He… He was kind of choking a minute ago. I think he's got the poison out of his system." Clint told her, trying to sound optimistic. Then he glanced at his watch and stood up. "I need to go. My wife and kids are coming and I promised I'd meet them."

Wanda nodded, saying nothing, her eyes fixed on her unconscious brother. Leaning down, Clint stroked his fingers to Pietro's hair, whispering something, which was unheard by Wanda, in his ear.

"I promise I'll come back. Soon as I can. Just…" He broke off, swallowing back his sadness. "Just hang in there."

* * *

"Did you have to bring the kids?"

Laura looked at her husband. "Where else are they supposed to go?"

"You could get Nat to look after them. Or Tony or… Anyone." Clint suggested before adding, in a hushed voice, "Pietro's really sick."

He didn't want his children to get upset. Pietro visited the family often, almost every time Clint went to see them, and he had developed a close bond with all three kids. They had even started calling him by his first name; unlike they did with most of the other avengers, whom they referred to as Mr or Miss. Nathaniel, however, had difficulty pronouncing certain people's names, and so usually just called Pietro 'Quick'. That's if he spoke at all, which he rarely did.

"Then they can wait outside." Laura determinedly found a loophole. "Can you imagine Tony looking after these three?" She asked, gesturing to her children, who were walking behind them.

Nathaniel was toddling beside Cooper. The three year old's hand was grasped tightly in his brothers.

"Anyway," Laura continued quietly. "I want to see him."

Clint let out a sigh, realising there was nothing he could do to change her mind. "Fine, fine." He admitted defeat, throwing his hands up in surrender.

They reached the door to the medical room and Laura crouched down in front of her children.

"You three need to stay here. I won't be long. Look," She pointed to two chairs against the wall, facing the door to the room. "You sit there, and I'll be right out. Okay?"

Cooper and Lila nodded and, when seeing that's what his siblings were doing, Nathaniel did the same. After a quick hug, they all went to sit on the chairs, Nathaniel on Cooper's knees, and Laura straightened up, turning back to Clint. He pushed open the door and stepped to the side, allowing Laura to enter. She walked into the room, pausing as she caught sight of Pietro.

He was lying on his left side, his eyes shut, looking even paler than she remembered. His jaws were parted slightly, his breathing slow and faint. Forcing herself to continue, she walked across the room, stopping beside his bed and tilting her head to the side a little as she looked down at him. Clint came up beside her.

"Where did Wanda go?" Clint questioned aloud, half to himself.

"Maybe Vision was asking for her or something…" Laura murmured.

Clint frowned. "What?"

Laura smiled, letting out a small chuckle. "You know, for someone called Hawkeye, you don't see much." Her face quickly fell again as her gaze flicked back to Pietro. "Is he going to be okay?" She asked quietly.

Clint hesitated, making her heart twist.

The door was suddenly pushed open and Nathaniel fell into the room. Cooper rushed in after him, quickly picking him up and getting him back to his feet.

"Sorry." Cooper apologised as Laura ran over. "I didn't think the door was ajar. He-"

Cooper broke off as he saw Pietro, his mouth forming an 'o' before he firmly shut it again. He walked over to his father and looked up at him questioningly. Clint didn't respond to his asking gaze, looking down to find Lila on his right. She suddenly clambered up onto Pietro's bed, kneeling beside the unconscious man. Reaching out a hand, she gently tugged on the lower half of Pietro's shirt.

"Pietro?" She asked, hesitantly. When he didn't stir, lying unresponsive and motionless, she shook his shoulder and repeated his name, growing afraid. "Mister Pietro?"

"Honey, don't." Clint lifted his daughter off the bed, putting her back down on the floor beside him. "He's not going to answer."

Lila gripped her father's arm. "What's wrong with him?" She whimpered, looking up at Pietro.

"He's in a coma sweetie." Clint murmured, his voice gentle. "I doubt he can hear us."

A moment of silence followed his words, broken only by an occasional sniffle from Lila.

"Dad…" Cooper shattered the silence. He sounded reluctant to ask the question that was gripping Clint's own mind. "Is he ever going to wake up?"

Clint stiffened and took a deep, silent breath, blowing it out as a slow sigh. "I don't know Cooper." He answered truthfully. "I hope so…"

 _What's hope going to do now, huh?_ A small voice echoed in Clint's mind. _Hope didn't stop this from happening; hope won't stop it getting worse._

"Why?" Lila suddenly squeaked, her voice high pitched and edged with fear. "Why is he in a coma Dad?"

Clint hesitated, wondering if he should tell her. He cast a questioning look at Laura. She opened her mouth about to reply, but something stopped her. Nathaniel was reaching up the bed, gripping the edge with his small hands. He tried to pull himself up, but fell back down onto his feet, before determinedly trying again. No one tried to stop him as he finally managed to get up onto the bed and scrambled over to Pietro. He lifted the unconscious man's right arm slightly and ducked under it, lying down and pressing his body close to Pietro's chest. He didn't stay there for long, moving up a little, with his legs still tucked between Pietro's arms. He, gently, put his hand on the side of Pietro's face.

"Petro." He almost pronounced it correctly.

Unknowingly holding his breath, Clint was half expecting Pietro to open his eyes. The young man, however, remained still, not even twitching at the toddlers touch. Silently scolding himself for thinking like a child, Clint reached forward lifting Nathaniel in his arms.

"Come on Buddy." He murmured. "Leave him be."

"But daddy. Petro not waking up." The three year old told his father, trying to struggle free to reach Pietro again.

Clint swallowed back an uncomfortable lump of grief in his throat. "I know." He held Nathaniel, stopping him from going back on the bed. "But when he does, you can see him, okay?" He tried to reassure himself as much as his son.

 _Please Pietro,_ he thought to himself, looking down at the younger man's pale face. _Please wake up._


	11. Chapter 11

Pietro could hear.

He couldn't move. He couldn't see. But he could hear.

He knew he was lying on his side, his eyes shut. All he could do was breathe and, occasionally, listen to others conversations, unable to join in. Someone took hold of his right hand. _Clint,_ he thought, relieved that he hadn't been left alone again.

"Hey Kid." The man murmured softly. "I don't know if you can hear me…"

 _Yes!_ Pietro wanted to scream. _I can! I can hear you!_ He tried, in vain, to somehow indicate to Clint that he could.

"Nat's looking after the kids now. Laura's with them too." Clint was telling him, oblivious to the fact that Pietro was listening. "Sorry if they disturbed you." His voice was apologetic and Pietro could picture the emotion sparkling in his eyes.

 _They didn't. I could hear them when they came in._ The words were ready on Pietro's tongue but he couldn't open his mouth to speak. He was scared. Scared that he would never be able to move. Never be able to talk or even open his eyes. His ribs hurt, he guessed they were broken, and his back still stung from where he had been whipped. There was an acidic taste in his mouth, as if he had just been sick. That woman, seeming so afraid before, had injected him with something. He didn't know what. But he knew she had almost killed him. Thankfully, she hadn't succeeded.

 _But would you rather live like this?_ Pietro asked himself. That was one question he couldn't answer. _Clint's here. And Wanda visits often._ He tried to think of more reasons to live. A jolt of fear ran through him as he couldn't find any. Stubbornly, he pushed the fear away and concentrated on what Clint was saying.

"I'm sorry." The archer was apologising again. He did that a lot. "This wasn't supposed to happen… But I'm not going to leave you this time."

He squeezed Pietro's hand reassuringly. That seemed to give Pietro a little more strength. With great difficulty, he flickered open his eyes. His cloudy, unfocused gaze rested on Clint for a heartbeat before letting out a quiet sigh and allowing his eyelids to flutter shut again.

"Pietro? Pietro!"

Clint was calling his name, desperation sharp in his voice. He tucked his hand under Pietro's head, lifting it slightly. With his other hand, he comfortingly stroked back Pietro's hair.

"Pietro? Come on Kid, stay with me."

 _I'm trying,_ Pietro wanted to tell him. _I'm not strong enough._

"I can't." He found himself breathing the words, barely audible, but somehow Clint managed to hear them.

"You can." Clint encouraged him, running his fingers through his white hair. "It's alright. Come on, just open your eyes."

Pietro's eyes fluttered open a fraction, seeing a blurred vision of Clint's concerned face for a second, before he immediately shut them again. He physically couldn't keep them open, like something was forcing him to close his eyes. _What's happening to me!?_

"Pietro… Can you hear me?"

 _Yes, but I can't move or speak or… Anything._

Clint seemed to take his silence as a no. "Okay…" He murmured quietly. "Okay. You rest now." He carefully laid Pietro's head back down, whispering softly to him. "You rest."

He was struggling to breathe a little, the air catching in his throat, and Clint obviously noticed this. The archer laid a hand on Pietro's jaw, gently parting his mouth to ease his breathing. He then began to stroke his hair, curling individual strands in his fingers. The action calmed Pietro a bit.

"I'd better go now." Clint said after a while. "Check where Laura and the kids are."

A jolt of fear struck Pietro. _Please don't leave me. I don't want to be on my own._

"I'll be back later." Clint promised.

Pietro heard him slip off the edge of the bed. Clint brushed back his hair one last time before the weight of his hand vanished and Pietro could hear his footsteps, gradually growing quieter as he walked away.

* * *

Someone was singing.

Pietro could hear them, and he knew the song. Only one other person knew it. Wanda. She was softly singing an old Sokovian song. It had been so long since she had sung it; Pietro had almost forgotten the words. She used to sing it when he had a nightmare. The song had always calmed him.

He hadn't heard Wanda come in though, and the song was already halfway through the final verse. _Did I sleep during a coma? Or did I fall into a deeper one then back to a lighter one?_ The song had ended and Wanda was quietly humming now, still the same tune. Pietro wanted her to know he could hear her.

Forcing his eyes to open, he saw Wanda's expression switch to surprise. The image lasted only a brief second before his eyes rolled back in his head and flickered shut again. A warm, gentle hand touched his cheek.

"Pietro?" His sister quietly whispered his name.

His eyes fluttered a little, a momentary, dull flash of blue was seen by Wanda before they shut again. Pietro swallowed painfully, his body trembling a little. Wanda gently pushed him onto his back. His face twitched and he tried to let out a noise of distress, but no sound was uttered. Wanda stroked her hand to the side of his head.

"Can you open your eyes?" She asked, her voice sympathetic.

Pietro hesitated for a moment before he opened his eyes slowly, narrowing them in attempt to keep them that way. Soon he found the effort too much and let them close again. Pity surged from Wanda.

"Okay… It's fine. Don't worry." She soothed him. "It'll get better."

 _What if it doesn't?_ Pietro asked himself. _What if I'm in a coma forever? What then?_

He suddenly felt a darker black pressing on his mind and realised with a spark of fear that he was slipping deeper into the coma. Wanda was speaking again, but her voice was muffled and dimming fast. Pietro heard her voice falter. She seemed to understand what was happening and laid a hand on her brother's cheek.

"Don't try and fight it." She ordered gently, her voice a little clearer. "I'll stay with you for as long and as often as I can… I love you. Remember that."

Pietro wanted to tell her he loved her too. But he couldn't speak, like he had forgotten how to. He exhaled a quiet breath, falling into a sleep-like unconsciousness.


	12. Chapter 12

Cooper snuck down the corridor.

It was night. Everyone else was asleep. The rest of his family were in a room down the black hall. Cooper wanted to see Pietro. The man was like a second father to him. He walked up to the medical room, his bare feet making no sound on the shined floor. He reached the door and hesitantly twisted the handle, blinking in surprise as it opened.

Quietly, he closed the door behind him, taking a deep breath before making his way over to Pietro. The unconscious man was lying on his back, one hand over his stomach, the other lay at his side. His mouth was open slightly, his chest rising and falling rhythmically as he breathed. Cooper caught his breath as he saw how pale he was. He pushed himself up onto the edge of the bed, looking at Pietro carefully.

He sat there for a long time, just watching him breathe. For a nine year old, he was oddly mature; more mature than even most teenagers. It came from having a father in the avengers. He _had_ to be mature.

Letting out a quiet sigh, he put his hand on Pietro's. He quickly drew it back.

Pietro's fingers had twitched.

"Pietro?" He whispered the name, hope flickering inside him like a tiny flame. "Pietro, are you there?"

Pietro didn't reply but, after a moment, his fingers twitched again. His eyes flickered slightly, turning his head to the right, facing towards Cooper. The boy laid his hand on Pietro's again, moving it down to hold his wrist.

"Pietro?" He raised his voice a little.

Pietro's eyes fluttered open. He flicked his gaze to Cooper; his blue irises misty and unfocused.

"Cooper?" He breathed the name, his weak voice barely audible. "Wh-what are you doing here?"

Talking seemed to hurt him, making Cooper's hear twist in sympathy. Pietro suddenly winced, squeezing his eyes shut. He gritted his teeth, letting out a quiet noise of pain. Cooper leapt off the bed as he began to tremble, his body shaking slightly.

"Pietro… Okay, okay." Cooper stumbled over the words, fear rising. "Don't worry, I'll-I'll get help!"

He raced towards the door and down the corridor, sprinting as fast as he could. Skidding to a halt outside his family's room, he pushed open the door and ran in. He scrambled up onto his parents bed, beside his father. Clint was having a nightmare, shuffling restlessly beneath the covers.

"Dad!" Cooper shook his shoulder. "Dad!"

Clint jolted into wakefulness, sitting bolt upright on the bed. He looked around wildly for a heartbeat before his gaze rested on his son.

"Cooper?" He frowned in confusion, his breathing elevated. "What's wrong?"

"It's Pietro." Cooper began. "He's-"

Clint didn't need to hear anymore.

He sprang up, leaping over to the door and sprinting out the room. Racing into the medical room, he stopped beside Pietro looking down at him worriedly. The younger man's entire body was shivering, his eyes shut tightly. Clint sat beside him on the bed, tucking one hand under Pietro's head and lifting it slightly.

"Kid? Can you hear me?" Clint whispered, stroking Pietro's hair back with his other hand.

Still trembling, Pietro blinked open his eyes, gazing up at Clint. The archer laid his head back down as a hoarse coughing fit shook Pietro's body, sending pain lancing through his ribs. He, with great difficulty, rolled to his side, coughing up blood onto the floor. A gentle hand lay on his back.

"Okay, you're okay." Clint murmured.

Pietro barely heard him over his own, struggling chokes. The coughing finally subsided and he fell back, shutting his eyes. Blood rose in his throat again and he let out another spluttering cough. Dark, scarlet liquid escaped his lips and a stream of red trickled from the corner of his mouth, winding down his jaw. Clint reached out a hand and gently wiped the blood from his pale face.

"Pietro, look at me."

Flicking open his eyes, Pietro obeyed Clint's soft order. He rested his gaze on Clint, who was looking into his eyes closely. The archer stroked a hand to the side of his head, brushing back his hair.

"It hurts." Pietro breathed the words, his weak voice sending shivers down Clint's spine.

"What does?" Clint asked, his eyes soft with sympathy. "What hurts?"

"Breathing." Pietro replied simply.

Hot anger seared with Clint's grief. _They'll pay for what they've done._

Pietro suddenly tensed, a spasm of pain shuddering through his body. When it ended, he shut his eyes, rolling onto his side and curling up his body slightly. Clint put a hand on the younger man's forehead. It felt like he was touching ice. Pietro's skin was so cold. Clint fought back his fear and slipped off the bed, crouching down beside it and grabbing a blanket from underneath. He quickly unfolded it and, sitting back on the bed, pulled it over Pietro, covering him up to his shoulders. He took Pietro's head in his hands, lifting it off the bed. Pietro blinked up at him, his eyes dull with exhaustion.

"Go to sleep." Clint whispered.

Pietro obeyed without protest, falling asleep almost as soon as he shut his eyes. Clint heard his breathing deepen as he settled into slumber.

He stroked back Pietro's hair comfortingly, placing a gentle kiss on the side of his head. Pietro _was_ like his son. And Clint promised himself that he would never let anything bad happen to him again. A quiet sob escaped Clint's lips and he swallowed hard, forcing back his tears.

He lay beside Pietro, pressing close to the younger man. He didn't intend on falling asleep, but was so tired he couldn't prevent it.


	13. Chapter 13

Clint's eyes snapped open.

 _What was that?_

He had heard a noise. Such a quiet noise it wouldn't have disturbed a regular person. It certainly hadn't disturbed Pietro and Clint was beginning to wonder if he had imagined it. Quick footsteps approached him and Clint sat up. He slipped off the side of the bed, twisting round to face the door a little too late.

A hand closed around his throat, lifting him off the floor slightly as he was pinned to the wall. He gripped his hands around his attacker's wrist, trying in vain to fight him off as he gasped for air. The man just tightened his hold, blocking Clint's breathing.

"I have a message for you." He growled in a low voice, seeming not to notice the kicks that Clint was aiming at him. "Yegor is growing weary of waiting. He has raised an army of your enemies. He will storm this building and murder everyone in it. Slowly and painfully… Unless you go to him. The usual place. And if you try to run, he'll kill everyone you love, he'll find you, and he'll-"

The man broke off, releasing Clint as he was knocked to sideways in a flash of blue. Relieved, Clint's feet hit the ground, forcing his legs not to buckle as he choked, heaving in the air. The man was knocked out on the floor next to him and Clint raised his head. Pietro was stood about two metres ahead of him, shivering, his wide eyes fixed on the man.

"Kid..." Clint murmured.

Pietro turned his gaze to Clint, still trembling. His eyes rolled back in his head and he collapsed to the side. Clint leapt forward, catching him before he hit the floor. He knelt on the ground, carefully lowering Pietro onto his lap, one hand on his back, the other holding up his head.

"Pietro? Come on kid, talk to me." Clint pleaded, cradling Pietro in his arms.

With a slight, breathy, groan, Pietro blinked open his eyes. His unfocused gaze wandered around the ceiling, finally resting on Clint. Worry was bright in his eyes as he looked down at the younger man.

"You did-didn't see that coming?"

Clint narrowed his eyes in sympathy, brushing back Pietro's pale hair from his equally pale face. "I didn't." He admitted, his voice cracking a little with grief.

Pietro's eyes flickered and closed, his breathing shallow. Clint laid a hand on his heart. The beat of it was concerning, quick and irregular. Moving his hand up to Pietro's face, Clint gently raised one of his eyelids. His pupils were contracted, his misty blue eyes twitching around restlessly. Carefully, Clint lowered his eyelid, tucking one arm under Pietro's legs and the other on his back. He lifted the younger man in his arms, making him let out a quiet moan of pain.

Clint hushed him softly. "It's okay, you're okay."

Laying him back down on the bed, Clint carefully pulled the blanket back over him.

* * *

The door opened and Clint whipped round, relaxing as he saw that it was Wanda. Her gaze drifted to the man, lying in the corner of the room and she cast a questioning look at Clint. He stood up, resting his hand on Pietro's head momentarily, before walking over to Wanda.

"Can you get someone to take that guy down to the cells?" He whispered as he reached her, motioning to the unconscious man.

Wanda folded her arms. "This is becoming a habit isn't it?" She looked past Clint at her brother, her expression concerned. "What happened this time?"

Clint quickly told her what had happened, her eyes widening as he explained Pietro had knocked out the man before collapsing. She narrowed her eyes in pity, her gaze fixed on Pietro. Raising a hand to his forehead, Clint let out a sigh.

"What?" Wanda questioned, sensing something was wrong. "What's up?"

"I can't take this anymore." Clint murmured, his voice low so Pietro wouldn't hear. "I can't stand just watching while he struggles through each day with death stalking him like a wolf. I… I have to do something."

Wanda gave him a long searching look. "Sit with him."

"What?"

"You want to do something to help?" Wanda asked and Clint nodded. "Then sit with him. He doesn't like being on his own."

Clint hesitated for a heartbeat before nodding again and turning back to Pietro, walking over and sitting on the edge of his bed. Wanda used her power to lift Clint's attacker and walked out of the room, suspending him in the air behind her as she went. Clint watched her leave before he laid his hand on Pietro's and the younger man blinked open his eyes. The corner of his mouth twitched in the beginnings of a weak smile as he looked up at Clint.

"Thanks for saving my life." Clint smiled and added, "again."

Pietro let out a short, weak breath of amusement. "What would you do without me?"

"Well, I'd be dead, so nothing much." Clint murmured.

A long silence stretched out before Pietro suddenly remembered something.

"How're your kids?"

Clint nodded. "They're fine. They were in here a few days ago. I don't know if you-"

"Yeah," Pietro interrupted him quietly. "I heard the-"

He broke off as a hoarse coughing fit shook his body; wasting the little strength he had remaining. As he let his body relax, closing his eyes, he heard Clint call his name, worry sharp in his voice. A hand touched his cheek and he forced his eyes open. Clint was leant over him, concern glistening in his eyes. He moved a glass of water to Pietro's mouth but he turned his head away, letting out a quiet moan of protest.

"Pietro, drink."

Pietro shut his eyes and shook his head in refusal. He felt sick.

"Please." Clint begged. "You need to drink."

"Don't want to." Pietro complained weakly.

Clint's heart twisted in pity and he placed the water back on Pietro's bedside table. _Why is he so weak? Did the poison have an effect after all?_ Clint put a hand to Pietro's chest, checking his heart rate. The beat was faint and rapid. He hid his fear, stubbornly burying the emotion.

"What's wrong?" Clint murmured. "Pietro, come on. What's the matter?"

Pietro groaned. "Feel sick." He muttered. "Breathing… Hurts."

"Okay…" Fear returned, hitting Clint like a truck. "Okay. Does anything else hurt?" Pietro nodded feebly. "What hurts?"

"Chest." Pietro struggled out the words. "Tight… Cold."

Clint moved his hand to Pietro's ribs. The younger man winced under his touch, flicking open his eyes. Clint's heart was in his throat. He knew Pietro. He knew he never complained or showed pain unless it was really serious.

"Can I sleep?" Pietro asked quietly, wheezing a little. "Will I ever wake up if I go to sleep?"

"Yes." Clint whispered, fighting to stop his voice from breaking. "Yes, you can sleep. Sleep is good; it will make you feel better."

Pietro swallowed, his throat dry. He didn't want anything to drink though. He didn't think he could stomach anything. As he closed his eyes, Clint's hand lay on his. His touch was reassuring. It was good to know someone was there. He was shivering uncontrollably, not even trying to stop himself from trembling.

Clint heard Pietro's breathing eventually deepen. He was wheezing again, his breathing rapid and shallow. Stiffening, Clint realised what was wrong with him.  
Pietro had a chest infection.


	14. Chapter 14

"Breathe in."

Pietro obeyed Clint's order, drawing in a deep breath of the steam. He was sitting upright, his back against the wall at the head of the bed. According to Clint, he had a chest infection. That didn't sound particularly pleasant to Pietro but apparently it wasn't serious. Clint put the bowl of steaming water back on his bedside table and turned back to Pietro, laying a hand on the younger man's forehead. Heat pulsed from his pale skin.

"How did a poison give me a chest infection?" Pietro asked, his voice hoarse from coughing.

"How indeed." Clint muttered, drawing his hand away, as clueless as Pietro was on the topic.

A loud coughing fit shook Pietro's body. Reaching out a hand, Clint rubbed his chest, soothingly, until his choking subsided. Pietro swallowed hard, forcing back his coughs. Clint took hold of his hand, wrapping it around a paper cup filled with a warm, golden, sweet smelling liquid.

"Drink this." Clint ordered.

Pietro shook his head and Clint let out a desperate breath.

"Please."

"I don't want to." Pietro muttered.

"I know." Clint murmured, gentle understanding in his voice. "But you want to get better, don't you?" Pietro nodded sheepishly. "Then drink."

After a moment of hesitation, Pietro let out a silent sigh and took a mouthful of the liquid. He swallowed it with difficulty, wincing.

"What is it?" He asked.

"Honey and lemon." Clint replied as Pietro took another sip. "It'll help with your throat."

Pietro murmured in acknowledgement and took a third gulp. It was like trying to swallow a knife. He forced it down and put the cup back down on the table to the right of his bed. Another cough gripped him. It hurt when he coughed. It hurt his throat and it hurt his ribs.

Falling to the side, he hung his head over the edge of the bed and coughed up blood. He spluttered at the salty taste, a sharp pain jolting through his chest as he choked. Exhaustion suddenly overwhelmed him as it ended and he allowed his limbs to go limp, head hanging as he took in deep, slightly shivering, breaths. He felt Clint leap off the bed and heard his footsteps as he ran round the other side. A hand touched Pietro's cheek and he opened his eyes, unaware he had closed them.

Clint was crouched on the floor beside his bed, gazing at him with anxious eyes.

"Chin up kid."

Pietro understood. That was Clint's way of telling him that everything would be alright and he should try and back get up. Get up and keep going. Letting out a quiet sigh, Pietro pushed a hand, hard, against the bed, heaving himself up. As he straightened his arm, trembling with the effort, it slipped and he fell back. He let his head drop, flicking his eyes to Clint.

"Can't… Do it…" He gasped the words, not a clue why he was feeling so weak. "Too… much."

Clint swallowed back an uncomfortable lump in his throat. "Alright Kid." He whispered. "Okay."

He stood up, tucking one hand under Pietro's head and the other on his shoulder, which was hanging off the side of the bed. Pietro let out a small whine of protest as Clint lifted his torso slightly. Trying to block out his pained whimpers, Clint laid him gently in the centre of the bed, carefully lowering his head onto the pillow. He sat on the edge, running his fingers repeatedly through Pietro's pale hair.

"That's right." Clint murmured as Pietro's eyes slipped closed. "You sleep now."

* * *

"What's wrong with him?"

Clint jumped and looked up, seeing Wanda walk quickly over to her brother.

"How do you kno-"

"I can feel it." Wanda interrupted him. Her face darkened, looking down at Pietro, who lay asleep on his side. "I feel his pain. A sickness is heavy on his mind. It hangs over him like a storm cloud. He-He's trying to fight it off… He's trying so hard, but is still exhausted from his torture."

Clint's heart twisted at the word. _Torture._ It was a horrific word. Not quite dead, only just alive. But suffering. For most tortures, in Clint's experience, death would be nicer. Torture was hell. That was the truest and easiest way to describe it. Clint had been to hell and back. Through a bullwhip, he'd been to hell. He'd recognised Pietro's wounds as a bullwhip too. Though, his injures were a _lot_ worse than Clint's had been.

"What's wrong with him?" Wanda repeated, jolting Clint from his memories.

"He's got a chest infection." Clint murmured. "I told him it wasn't serious."

Wanda let out a quiet breath of relief. "So he's going to be o-"

"I lied."

Wanda's heart seemed to stop. "What?" She whispered the word quietly.

"I lied, Wanda." Clint didn't shift his gaze from Pietro, stroking his fingers through the younger man's pale hair. "It's really bad. He's weak." Now he looked at Wanda, fixing her with eyes filled with misery. "He's so weak… And it hurts… Its hurts him and it hurts _me_ to see him like this."

Wanda swallowed hard, fighting back a sob. She had never seen Clint so sad. So… Broken. He cared about them so much. She felt it in his mind. He couldn't stand seeing them scared or in pain. He couldn't stand it, but he always tried to help. Always the first to offer assistance. Always.

Why had she never realised how much they needed him? He had blamed himself for Pietro's injuries during the battle with Ultron. He had sat with the wounded man. Every spare moment had been spent sitting with him, holding his hand. People had tried to make him move, tried to get him to go and rest. Every time, he would refuse. He wouldn't even move for Natasha. He had just sat on the edge of Pietro's bed, watching as the doctor's checked his blood pressure and cleaned his wounds and generally fixed him up. He had been there when Pietro had regained consciousness for the first time. Pietro had been terrified. He had screamed about dying, about the cold, sucking darkness that had occupied his mind. And Clint had helped him. Wanda had seen the archer calm her panic-stricken brother, with a tenderness which she hadn't thought possible. Yet he still blamed himself. Even now.

Wanda found herself moving, walking around the bed to Clint and sitting beside him. She found herself hugging him, her arms wrapped around his chest and gripping the back of his shirt. After a brief second of hesitation, Clint returned the hug.

"Thank you." Wanda whispered. "Thank you so much for everything you've done for us."

She felt confusion coming off Clint in waves but he clearly understood. He didn't reply, speechless with surprise. They kept hugging for a while until Clint eventually pulled away and Wanda could see those sad eyes again.

"He's only here because of me." He murmured, turning his gaze to Pietro. "It's always my fault."

"It's not Clint." Wanda shook her head. "You didn't-"

"He took those bullets for _me_." Clint whispered, his voice almost too quiet to hear. "Yegor took him because he was important to _me_. This is what happens, Wanda…" He looked at her. She could see tears glistening in his eyes. "My life is a fire. People who touch it get burnt…" He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. His voice cracked a little as he said the next words. "And I can't bear it."

 _Oh, Clint…_ Wanda felt her eyes prickling, warm tears stinging the corners. She needed to comfort him. She had to help. Cupping Clint's face in her hands, she gently kissed his forehead.

"We'll find a way to sort this." She promised quietly, resting her forehead on his. "Pietro will get better. We'll find Yegor. And we'll make him wish he had never met us."

* * *

 **A/N-**  
 **Hey Guys! Hope you're enjoying this story so far!**

 **Okay, really sorry but I won't be updating for a while because i'm going away for about a week (and a few days longer so a week and 3 days. But no ones like a pedantic person, am I right? XD).**

 **I'll try write and update as soon as I can when I get back. This is just to let you know why i'm not posting chapters for the next week (In case you thought I had stopped writing :D Hah! As if. This is literally all I do, I have no social life. Fun fact for you there and now i'm rambling, sorry). For you people who read all or most of my stories, this message will be posted on all of them too, so might it get a bit boring. So yeah... You all have a good week and I'll see you when I get back.**

 **~Eniko**


	15. Chapter 15

Pietro blinked open his eyes.

Clint was sat beside him, on the edge of his bed. The archer's fingers were running lazily through Pietro's hair, his unfocused gaze fixed on the ground, oblivious to the fact that the younger man was awake.

"Gonna tell me?"

Clint jumped, startled, and whipped his head to look at Pietro, drawing his hand away. The corner of his mouth twitched slightly, relishing the archer's surprised expression.

"Tell you what?"

"Why you faked your death." Pietro murmured, face falling into seriousness.

Clint swallowed uncomfortably. "Yes… You deserve to know…" He took a deep breath. "This Russian man, Yegor, kidnapped Laura and my Kids." Pietro's head shot off the pillow, his eyes wide. "He said he'd kill them unless I bought him here, to the tower, and let him shoot me in front of you guys. I couldn't ask for help from anyone, he said he'd shoot my family where they stood… I-I knew that he would kill them anyway, and if I bought him here then he'd try and kill you guys. I had to save them, but none of you could know. I couldn't risk any of you getting hurt. If I disappeared for a long time you'd probably wonder where I'd gone. And Yegor would try and force the information from you if you knew. I thought if he knew I was dead then he'd leave you all alone. And I could have my family safe… And I could have _you_ safe." His eyes narrowed angrily. "But it didn't work. Everything's gone wrong!"

He bowed his head, struggling to hide his emotions. Closing his eyes, he reached up a hand and swiped back his hair, letting out a long, calming breath.

"I'm sorry." He whispered. "This was all my fault."

"Oh shut up you stupid old man."

Clint opened his eyes in shock, looking to Pietro. The younger man was smirking slightly.

"If you apologise one more time I'll hand you to Yegor myself." Pietro joked, though his voice was dull.

Only a second after he had finished the sentence, he let out a few pitiful chokes which soon turned into a full on coughing fit. He was wheezing when it ended, his breathing hoarse and ragged. Carefully pushing him onto his back, Clint lifted Pietro's head slightly and moved a cup of water to his mouth. He turned his face away, letting out a whine of protest.

"No." He whimpered as Clint moved his face back and held his head in place. "Please… Don't want-"

He broke off as Clint tipped the cup upwards, the water splashing into his parched mouth.

"Shh..." Clint hushed him softly as his throat convulsed, finding it hard to swallow. "It's alright. It'll be okay."

A cough gripped Pietro and a trickle of water spilled over his lips. Clint put the cup back down on the table beside his bed. Reaching out a hand, he soothingly stroked his fingers to Pietro's neck.

"Swallow." He ordered as Pietro continued to struggle. "Come on, swallow it Kid."

Pietro shut his eyes tightly and forced down the liquid. It seemed to hurt him. Pity rose inside Clint. He'd made the younger man drink against his will. Clint knew it was for the best, Pietro's condition would worsen if he didn't keep hydrated. And the Kid needed to get some liquid down his throat- feeding tubes just wouldn't help with his chest infection. Yet he knew the action would leave him guilty for a long time.

His heart sunk. The Kid was coughing again. He just couldn't seem to shake off the infection.

"Am… Am I going to die?" Pietro whispered when the coughing ended, blinking up at Clint with bleary eyes.

Clint shook his head, gripping his hand in Pietro's. "No, no of course you're not going to die. Everything'll be fine."

"You've lie-lied before." Pietro reminded him weakly.

"I know." Clint swallowed. "I guess it's just in my nature."

To his surprise, Pietro gave a small shake of his head. "Don't think that's true…" He paused to take a breath. "Past… Behind us."

Clint spent a moment trying to work out what he was saying. Laura was right. For someone with the name 'Hawkeye' he really didn't see much. He knew the past shouldn't bother him. What had happened, happened. No way to change that. But it did bother him. It _really_ bothered him. It haunted him every day, every night. Some nights were worse than others. Some nights he would have the most horrific nightmares. Some nights he would wake up at 3:00am screaming, too unsettled to go back to sleep.

"I'm not lying this time." Clint promised, squeezing Pietro's hand reassuringly. "You'll be okay. I'm going to look after you."

Pietro let out a quiet breath of amusement. "What d-do you mean _going_ to?"

Clint smiled. "Okay. I'll _continue_ to. Better?"

A quiet murmur reached his ears- a murmur which could have meant anything- and Clint realised that Pietro was trying to fight off sleep.

"Rest Kid." Clint ordered gently. "Go to sleep."

Pietro blinked at him, his eyes drowsy. Clint knew he didn't want to sleep. He knew the kid was scared that, if he went to sleep, he wouldn't wake up. But Clint would never let that happen. Clint knew he would take on all of Hydra single handed for his friends. Pietro's eyes eventually slipped shut, his breathing growing deeper as he fell asleep. A flicker of a smile passed over Clint's face, though he wasn't entirely sure why. He leant over Pietro, brushing back his pale hair before gently placing a kiss on the sleeping man's forehead.

"I'll keep watch."


	16. Chapter 16

Pietro opened his eyes to darkness.

Confused, he blinked several times. Nothing. Just… Black.

He raised a hand, laying it on his chest to check that he was really there and that he could move. _Am I blind? What's happening?_ Panic surged through him.

"Peace my son."

Pietro froze.

The voice was soft. It was kind. It was caring. It took Pietro longer than it should have to realise the voice was in Sokovian.

"Open your eyes son."

 _They are open… And why do you keep calling me son? You're not my…_

"Mother?" Pietro's voice was barely a whisper.

A gentle hand took hold of his. "I'm here." The voice whispered softly. "Do you remember me?"

"Of course I do!" His voice was stronger now, fuelled by shock and joy. "Wanda and I… We missed you."

"Hush now." His mother made a quiet shushing noise to accompany her words. "It's okay. Everything will be okay. You can open your eyes now."

"But… They are open… Aren't they?"

"Not yet my darling. I'm afraid this is a dream."

"Don't… Want it… To…"

Pietro's words were becoming slurred and difficult to say. A hand lay on the side of his face and his eyes shot open. He immediately tried to struggle up but someone to his left quickly detained him, holding him down.

"Calm down! Calm down, its me."

His wide eyes found Wanda, who was sat beside him on the edge of the bed. She looked worried. She looked scared.

"I-I saw our mother." He stuttered in a hushed voice.

Wanda stiffened. "What?" She whispered.

"She came to me…" Pietro paused, blinking in confusion. "Didn't you see her?"

"It was a dream Brother." Wanda murmured, her voice soft. "It was only a dream."

"But… But I wasn't asleep."

His sister swallowed and stroked her fingers through his hair. "You were Pietro. You were dreaming. You were sleeping."

"But she was there." Pietro insisted. "I couldn't see her but I could hear her. I could feel her. She was there Wanda." He frowned a little, looking up at her. "Don't you believe me?"

Wanda took hold of her brother's hand. She hated seeing him like this. She hated it when he was confused or scared. It almost broke her. "Listen to me." She ordered gently. "You were asleep and dreaming. That's all it was. It was a dream… You know that, don't you?" She was suddenly desperate for him to understand. "You know it was just a dream."

He flicked his gaze away from her, frowning up at the ceiling. "But she was there." He repeated quietly, his sentence ending in a small coughing fit.

Wanda's eyes narrowed in sympathy. _He thought it was real._ She, without the knowledge of Pietro, took her phone from her pocket and quickly sent a text to Clint. **Can you come down please?** She would have explained but didn't want Pietro to know she was worried. Clint always came. No matter what. Sure enough, barely a minute had passed before they heard the familiar, rushed footsteps and the door opened.

"What's wrong?" Clint asked, a little out of breath as he raced into the room. He skidded to a halt beside Wanda. "Is everything okay?"

Wanda stood up, stepping back a few metres. She gestured for Clint to come and, looking a little anxious, he came over to her.

"He's a bit confused." She whispered, glancing over at her Brother. "He had a dream and he thinks it was real."

Clint tilted his head to the side a bit. "What kind of dream?"

"About our Mother."

The archer's eyes immediately softened.

"I don't know what to do." Wanda muttered. "I'm his sister. I'm supposed to know what to do."

Clint looked at her closely. She appeared tired and strained. A constant expression of anxious concern was etched on her pale face. Her eyes kept flicking back to watch her Brother, who was staring up at the ceiling.

"Go and rest." He ordered, nodding towards the door.

She opened her mouth, looking as though she about to argue. Clint fixed her with a hard stare and she reluctantly closed her mouth, nodding. She headed for the door, casting a final look at her brother before letting out a sigh and leaving the room.

Clint immediately rushed over to Pietro. The younger man was coughing again; the force of it was shaking his body.

"Are you okay?" Clint asked, sitting down on the edge of the bed when his coughing had stopped.

Pietro didn't answer, not even looking at the archer.

"Kid?"

Still no reply. Pietro turned his head, so he was facing away from Clint.

"Do you need anything?" Clint prompted gently. "Food? Water? What do you want?"

"I want my mother." Pietro whispered.

An uncomfortable lump formed in Clint's throat but he swallowed it away.

"I want my family back." Pietro continued, his gaze still fixed on the wall, away from Clint. "I want none of this to ever have happened."

 _Oh kid, don't say that… It'll be okay._ "Your parents can't come back Pietro." Clint told him softly.

"She screamed when the bomb hit." Pietro murmured absently, acting as though he hadn't even heard Clint. "She cried when I pulled her under the bed. She screamed when the next one hit… But that didn't go off. It… It just sat there. Three inches from my face. And all I could do was look at it. Then I opened my eyes and Wanda was next to me, calling my name and begging for me to keep my eyes open. I had some shrapnel… Stuck in my forearm. I'd passed out… Because I had lost so much blood… And Wanda was scared. She said she thought I had died…" His eyes glazed with memory. "I tried to comfort her. I told her everything would be fine, even though I didn't believe it myself. Because that's my job… I have to take care of her. I have to-" He broke off as another bout of coughing gripped him.

"Stop kid." Clint ordered softly. "You don't have to talk."

"In the…" Pietro paused to catch his breath. "In the Hydra lab… They'd beat us if we disobeyed or broke a rule. I wouldn't let them hurt Wanda… So if she did something wrong then they'd take it out on me. She did a lot of things they didn't like… It wasn't her fault. It was her power. It was hard to control for a while… They tortured me… I never told Wanda about it. She still doesn't know about it… Kept it hidden."

Pietro shut his eyes, trembling violently. Hesitantly reaching out a hand, Clint touched the younger man's arm. Knowing it was safe to touch him without triggering a panic attack, the archer lay his hands to the sides of Pietro's face.

"Don't touch… Don't hurt… Wanda." Pietro gasped out the words.

"Kid, listen to me." Clint used his calmest voice. "You're in the avengers tower. No one's going to hurt you or Wanda. Okay?"

"Please… Leave her. "Pietro continued to choke the words. "Take… Me instead… Please."

Clint lightly stroked his thumb to Pietro's cheek. "You're safe here." He whispered. "I promise I'll keep you safe. You and Wanda. I swear on my life, I'll look after you."

He knew that was a big thing to promise. But that didn't stop him from meaning every single word. The twins had experienced too much hardship. Too much pain and fear. And Clint couldn't stand seeing them hurt or scared. Beneath that fighting spirit; those genetically advanced skills. They were, in Clint's eyes, still just children. They needed someone to be them for them when no one else is. Someone to help them when they make mistakes. Someone to tell them everything would be alright when they are scared. Clint didn't think he could be that person. But he still wanted to try.

"Look at me Pietro." Clint spoke softly. "Show me your eyes."

After a long moment of hesitation, in which Clint found himself holding his breath, Pietro slowly opened his eyes. His blue irises were misty and slightly unfocused, and Clint was shocked to see tears glistening in them.

"Don't want Wanda to get hurt." He whimpered.

"I know kid." Clint began. "But-"

Pietro wasn't finished.

"Don't want you hurt…" He paused to take in a breath. "Like father… Can't lose…" He looked as though he would have continued but several loud coughs stopped him.

"Alright." Clint murmured. "Okay kid."

The archer stroked back his pale hair. Having people you care for was dangerous. Enemies took advantage of that. _I was right,_ Clint reflected. _My life_ _ **is**_ _a fire. And Pietro has been burnt… It's only a matter of time before he's killed because of me._ Clint shook the thought away with a slight twitch of his head. _No._ He had made a promise. He had sworn to keep them safe. And he'd keep that promise, to the best of his abilities. To the end of his days.

* * *

 **A/N- Hey guys!**  
 **Sorry this took a long time. I'm afraid it will take me a while to update, as I am rather busy at the moment. But I'll try and get each chapter done as soon as I can.**


	17. Chapter 17

Clint opened the door to Pietro's room, surprised to find Laura sat on the edge of his bed.

She didn't turn round as Clint shut the door, walking over to her. Pietro was lying, asleep, on his side, facing away from Laura.

"You shouldn't be in here." Clint murmured, laying a hand on his wife's shoulder. "You could catch his infection. And where are the kids?"

"I think he's fought it off." Laura replied. "He feels cooler. And they're with Nat."

A spark of hope flamed inside Clint and he hurried round the bed, sitting on the opposite side to his Laura. Reaching out, he gently lay his hand to Pietro's forehead. The kid was still a little warm, but it was a big improvement from last time. He shuffled a little under Clint's touch and the archer quickly drew away. With a slight murmur, Pietro turned onto his front, folding his arms under his head. _Good sign,_ Clint reflected. If Pietro was in a lot of pain then he wouldn't be moving.

"He's a little too brave for his own good." Laura muttered.

Clint smiled. "I know."

Pietro moved to his side, facing away from Clint, and curled up his body slightly. He let out a few quiet coughs and his eyes fluttered open.

"Laura?" He murmured drowsily.

She smiled kindly. "Hello Pietro."

He briefly returned her smile before pushing his hands against the bed and beginning to sit up.

"Slowly, slowly." Clint warned, helping him to lean against the wall. "You feeling alright?"

Pietro nodded. "Fine."

Clint took a glass of water from the table beside him, handing it to Pietro. The younger man took it with a murmur of thanks and raised it to his mouth, swallowing a mouthful of the liquid. He took another gulp before putting the glass down.

The door suddenly opened and Lila ran in, followed by Cooper and Nathaniel. "Pietro!" The little girl exclaimed, scrambling up onto the bed. She flung her arms around his neck, hugging him tightly. Clint stiffened, wondering if she was being a little too rough. But Pietro just smiled and hugged her back.

"Hey kvetina." He murmured, making her giggle.

Clint smiled. Lila loved it when Pietro called her that. It meant flower in Sokovian.

"Be gentle with him honey." Laura warned quietly. "You know he's been hurting for a while, don't you?"

"Oh, sorry." Lila immediately released Pietro, sitting back on her knees. "Sorry."

"Don't worry." Pietro waved a hand dismissively. "I can handle it... Hey buddy." He smiled as Nathaniel pulled himself up onto the bed.

"Petro." Nathaniel crawled up to him, wrapping his arms and legs around one of Pietro's arms and nuzzling his cheek onto the man's skin. "Petro better?"

Pietro smiled again, ruffling Nathaniel's pale blonde hair. "Yeah. I'm good."

"Bad man hurt you." Nathaniel muttered angrily. "Daddy'll get bad man."

Pietro blinked in surprise. _How did he know about that?_ He stroked Nathaniel's hair. "I'm sure he will. I think we're all going to go get him."

"No." Clint shook his head. "We're not."

"What?" Pietro turned to him, shocked.

Clint looked at him seriously. "I'm not having you hurt again kid."

"I'm not staying here." Pietro insisted.

Clint cast a look at Laura; a look that clearly asked _'can you give us a minute alone?'_ She nodded in understanding.

Laura stood up, prising Nathaniel off of Pietro's arm. "We'll leave you to talk." She murmured, holding her son in one arm. Reaching over, she put her hand to the back of Clint's head and placed a kiss on his lips. Then she turned to Pietro, kissing the top of his head. Ushering Lila off of the bed, she took her children out of the room, casting a final glance over her shoulder before shutting the door.

Clint watched her leave before turning back to Pietro.

"I'm not staying here." Pietro repeated. "I'm coming with you to get Yegor."

"Look," Clint leant forward, needing him to understand. "I can't ask the others to risk their lives for me and it'll take too long to explain. You're not completely recovered yet and even if you were I wouldn't let you come. It's too dangerous. I'm going alone."

"If it's dangerous then you'll need help. You won't be able to stop me." Pietro murmured, shaking his head a little.

Clint smiled sadly, his eyes softening. "I already have."

Pietro frowned in confusion before realisation flashed in his eyes and he looked to the glass beside his bed. "What have… you…?" His voice trailed off and he blinked, looking like he was trying to clear his sight. With a quiet gasp, he fell to the side. Clint caught him calmly, moving the younger man onto his lap. He ran his fingers through his white hair.

Pietro struggled, shifting his legs in an attempt to break free of Clint's grip. He shook his head furiously, trying to sit up. Holding him steady, Clint made a few quick hushing sounds.

"Shh, shh, shh… It's alright." He whispered, noting Pietro's struggles were growing weaker. "You'll sleep soon. You can't fight it. Just relax."

"Why're you… Doing this?" Pietro asked quietly, his words becoming slurred.

"Don't speak; you'll have a massive headache when you wake up if you do." Clint warned. He leant down, kissing the side of Pietro's head. "You're like a son to me. And I'm not going to lose you again… This'll all be over before you wake up."

"Don't go." Pietro whispered.

Clint looked down at him, trying to stop himself choking on emotion. "Don't forget me kid."

Pietro's eyes fluttered shut and a quiet sigh was exhaled from his lips as his head fell limp. Clint felt the young man's body relax and gently stroked his hair.

"I have to end this."


	18. Chapter 18

_**A/N- Sorry this took so long. This chapter didn't want to work; I had to keep re-writing it.**_

* * *

Pietro woke with a start.

He sat up quickly, immediately regretting it as pain throbbed in his head. Raising a hand, he rubbed his forehead, attempting to decrease the headache. _Clint… Clint, what did you do?_ He wondered worriedly. _What did you do?_

Shifting a little, he threw the blanket away and slipped off the edge of the bed. A jolt in his chest made him stumble a little but he managed to stay on his feet. The door opened and Wanda walked into the room, freezing at the sight of her brother.

"Pietro…?" She whispered before running up to him and putting her hands to his shoulders to keep him up. "Pietro, what are you doing!? Please, get back in bed, you're still weak-"

He shook his head dismissively. "Where's Clint? Where did he-"

"He's fine, he's fine, he's in his room." Wanda assured him urgently. "Pietro please, please go to sleep. You need to rest. You need sleep."

Pietro shook his head again. "Clint… 'S done something… Being stupid... He can't go on his own-"

Wanda touched her fingers to his lips, hushing him desperately. "Shh, shh! Please, hush. I can get him for you if you want, but you need to get back in your bed for me. You're sick brother, you need rest."

"But Clint's in danger!" Pietro protested, beginning to try and force his sister off.

His head pounded again and a hand flew to his temple, staggering sideways. To stop himself from falling over, he had to lean his other hand against the bed, too dizzy to struggle as Wanda gently forced him to sit down.

"Did you have a nightmare Pietro?" His sister asked kindly. "Is that why you're upset?"

"I wasn't dreaming." Pietro insisted angrily.

She didn't understand. Pietro needed to find Clint, he needed to stop the archer before he did something stupid. The idiot was probably already in Hydra's base. He was going to get himself killed!

"Come on now." Wanda murmured, slipping a glass of water into one of his hands. "You should drink, it'll make you feel better."

Pietro shook his head again, his frustration growing by the second. "I don't want to drink." He protested, thrusting the glass back at his sister. "It was not a dream. Clint's in real danger and he's going to die if I don't go after him!"

Wanda started to talk again, explaining that he'd feel a lot better if he rested and trying to persuade him that Clint was alright. But Pietro wasn't listening anymore. He knew he'd regret this when he stopped but he had to find Clint. He had to stop this.

He took his sister's hand, causing her to stop talking, and raised it to his lips, kissing her knuckles softly. "I'm sorry." He whispered.

With that, he leapt up. Quicker than lighting, he took Wanda's mobile from her back pocket. Blue mist streamed after him as he sprinted out of the room. He heard Wanda shout his name and knew she could stop him if she wanted to. But he also knew she wouldn't. She refused to lift a finger against her own brother, she'd never use her power against him.

Wind streamed through his hair as he ran down the corridor and skidded to a halt in the lift. He pressed the 'emergency down' button, a red button with a down arrow below the rest which sends the lift straight to the ground floor without stopping. The doors immediately shut. The elevator zoomed down the levels, quickly reaching the ground floor, and the doors slid open.

Pietro raced out, crashing through some agents that were waiting to get in the lift. Ignoring their irritated yells, Pietro sprinted out the tower, zooming down the street. He darted into a murky alley, quickly switching on Wanda's phone and dialling in a number. He lifted the phone to his ear.

A throbbing ache vibrated through his head, and he raised his palm to his temple, rubbing his skin to try and decrease the pain.

"Hello?"

"Laura." He murmured into the mobile. "It's Pietro. Where's Yegor's base?"

"Pietro?!" She exclaimed. "Where are you? What have you done?"

"Nothing. I haven't done anything." Pietro insisted, dizziness beginning to cloud his eyes. He shook his head furiously, clearing his sight. "I haven't done anything. I just need to know where the base is. Clint's in danger, he's gone after him. I have to stop him."

There was a brief second of silence from the other end. "I'll send you the directions. Just, please, get the rest of the team for this. Do not underestimate Yegor. He _will_ kill you this time. He wants to make Clint suffer… Killing him isn't enough. He'll hurt you, and then he'll kill you in front of Clint… Promise me you'll be careful."

Pietro was silent for a heartbeat, before nodding. "I promise."


	19. Chapter 19

**A/N- I'm apologising in advance for this chapter because 1) It took ages to write and it's probably way too long, 2) It's probably not what people want but oh well, 3) I wrote this at about half 2 in the morning. I have no idea... Yay?**

* * *

Clint loosed an arrow from his bow, embedding it silently into the back of a hydra agent. The man fell to the ground, dead.

The archer had managed to successfully reach and infiltrate the base without detection. His skilled approach was powered by his emotions- his need to protect Pietro and his family and all the avengers. This was his problem. And he was going to fix it.

Clint raced down the twisting corridors. Hearing movement up ahead, he slowed a little, pinpointing the room the noise was coming from. He notched an arrow in the string of his bow and kicked open the door. Running in, he immediately skidded to a halt, his eyes wide with shock.

In front of him was Pietro. The younger man was knelt on the ground, his head bowed, his hands tied behind his back. Yegor was stood behind him, a gun pressed to the back of Pietro's head.

"Barton." He greeted cruelly. "I hoped it would be you. If it was any of your friends I'd have to kill them immediately and that would be no fun at all."

Clint pulled the string of his bow back to his jaw, pointing the arrow at Yegor. "Let him go." He growled through gritted teeth.

"Oh, I don't think so." Yegor hissed back at him. "You took everything from me. Now I'm going to take everything from you. Starting with him." He jerked the gun at Pietro, making his head move forward a little. "Then your little partner, Natalia. Then your wife and children… Because I know where they are. I always know."

"You will never touch them again." Clint promised, raising his bow a little.

The Russian man looked coldly back at him. "You really think you're faster than me? Maybe you have forgotten-" He grasped a handful of Pietro's pale hair, forcing his head back so he was looking up at the ceiling. "-But I don't give a damn whether I live or die. Do you think he does?" He asked, nodding down to Pietro.

"Your fight's with me." Clint muttered. "Let him go and we'll settle this once and for all."

"Clint, don't!" Pietro warned before his voice was abruptly cut off as Yegor gripped a hand around his throat.

"Hush now kid." Yegor whispered mockingly, refusing to slacken his hold as Pietro's throat convulsed, failing to gasp in the air. "Shh, shh…"

Pietro's eyes found Clint again and, despite Yegor's threats, he choked out another word. "Run."

With a quick movement, Yegor struck the gun across Pietro's cheek. Pietro let out a sharp breath of pain and blood began to well at the cut down the side of his face. Yegor ducked as an arrow flew at him, the object embedding itself in the wall behind him. He raised the gun, firing it at Clint. The archer spun to the side, dodging it expertly, and whipped round, another arrow pointing to Yegor's heart.

"Big mistake Barton." Yegor said the words coldly.

He crouched beside Pietro, gripping the back of his head. Pietro shut his eyes as Yegor whispered something into his ear. He struggled as Yegor swiped his tongue up the scratch the gun had made, but couldn't escape the man's grip. As he drew back, a whizzing noise sounded, followed by a quiet click. Clint lowered his bow, his narrowed eyes fixed on the, blood dripping, hole in Yegor's head. The Russian man crumpled to the ground, his body motionless, his blood pooling on the ground. His eyes were open and glassy, half narrowed in a last, cruel glare at death.

"It's over." Clint whispered. "It's over Pietro."

"Clint…"

He turned his head to Pietro. The younger man was drawing in silent breaths, letting them out as long, shuddering exhales. Blood was clouding on his shirt, directly over his heart, staining the light-grey a sharp red. He swallowed painfully, looking up at Clint, who was briefly frozen in shock. Pietro swayed, his eyes rolling back in his head, and collapsed to the side. Dropping his bow, Clint ran over to him, hurriedly removing the rope bonding his hands.

"No, no, no." Clint muttered, throwing the rope away and carefully turning Pietro over, so he lay on his back. "Oh, I told you not to come… Why did you come?!"

His eyes were open, but flickering. They seemed to dim a little more each second. His chest heaved as he quickly and shakily fought in the air. "Silent… Gun." He choked out the words. "Nice to have… Quality."

"Shh, shh, shh-" Clint hushed him quickly, beginning to panic. "Please, don't talk. You'll be okay. I'm getting you back to the tower." The archer promised him quietly. He tucked his arms under Pietro's shivering form. "You ready?" Pietro swallowed, nodding weakly.

Clint carefully lifted Pietro into the air, trying and failing to ignore an anguished groan that escaped the young man. Every instinct was shouting for him to put Pietro back down, but he knew he couldn't. His pain filled gaze was flicking around above him, taking longer and longer to open his eyes again when he blinked.

"Tony? Tony, are you there? I need the jet, right now." Clint called urgently into the earpiece as he made his way out the room.

"Where are you?"

"Tracker on the communicator. Just follow my coordinates."

"Can't you just get back here yourself? Wait, what's happen-"

"Stark!" Clint lost his patience, almost yelling into the communicator. "Pietro's down!"

Tony collapsed into a shocked silence for a heartbeat. Down meant he'd taken a hit. A bad hit. Down meant he was closer to dying than he was to living. And, of course, Tony immediately changed his tone. "Okay, okay. I'll get there as soon as I can."

Clint didn't reply. He adjusted his grip on Pietro as he broke into a run, jogging through the building, down the dimly lit, twisting corridors. The younger man suddenly fell limp, his body relaxing. Clint looked down, fear jolting through him as he saw that Pietro's eyes were shut.

"Oh god. Kid, come on…" He stroked back Pietro's hair, pressing his cheek to his forehead. "Come on, don't give up on me."

 _He's fainted,_ Clint thought to himself, seeing the weak yet quick rise and fall of Pietro's chest. The archer reached the door and kicked it open, running out and looking round for the jet. He let out a desperate breath. It wasn't there. _Tony, get a move on!_ He leant against the wall, slowly slipping down to the floor. Quickly and carefully, he took off Pietro's shirt, exposing the bullet wound. The kid opened his eyes as Clint pressed the fabric down on the bleeding injury.

"Clint." He whispered weakly. "I… I couldn't let you… You were in danger… Tried to… Tried…"

"Shh…" Clint hushed him softly, stroking his head. "It's alright. It's okay, please don't talk. Can you just keep quiet for me?"

Pietro squeezed his eyes shut, tensing. His chest heaved as he fought in fast, struggling breaths. _He's freaking out,_ Clint thought worriedly. A familiar roar met his ears as a second later the Quinjet flew over his head, landing in front of him. The door lowered and Clint quickly got up, lifting Pietro in his arms and running into the jet.

"What happened?" Steve asked as Clint lay Pietro down on the jet floor.

"Yegor." Clint growled.

He put two fingers to Pietro's neck, checking his pulse.

"I'll kill him." Steve muttered the words angrily.

"I beat you to it." Clint told him, drawing his hand away. "Pulse is weak. Shocks setting in fast. Tony! Get us back to the tower now!"

The jet rose quickly, the engines roaring. Steve quickly fetched a medical kit, putting it down beside Clint. The archer opened it, taking out a roll of bandages before dismissing Steve with a wave of his hand. Carefully and quickly, Clint wrapped the bandages around Pietro's torso, covering the wound to prevent any more blood from escaping. The bullets had gone straight through. Yegor had shot him in the back and it had gone straight through, out his chest.

As he put the remaining bandages back in the box, Pietro's body suddenly began to writhe and twist a little. He let out several breathy gasps and quiet grunts of pain. Clint gently took hold of his jaw, forcing him to make eye contact.

"Look at me." He ordered in a whisper, causing Pietro's eyes to set on his. "You're going to be fine. Okay? But you need to try and slow you breathing down a little. Just relax."

"It hurts." Pietro whimpered, his flickering eyes locking with Clint's. "M-make it stop… Please…"

Clint gave him a tiny, sad, smile, laying a hand to the side of his face and turning his head to the centre. "I know kid, I know it hurts. Just try and stay conscious for me, alright?"

"Pietro!" Wanda collapsed to her knees beside her brother. "Oh… Oh, môj drahý, no." _(Translation- My darling)_

"Wanda, you need to stay calm for him." Clint told her, his voice too quiet for Pietro to hear. "He's frightened-"

The woman turned her gaze to him and Clint had to force himself not to flinch away. Her eyes burned with a furious flame. "This is all your fault." She hissed, obviously close to tears. "All he's tried to do is protect you… He's never going near you again."

Clint swallowed uncomfortably. He lowered his head, letting out a silent sigh. "I'm sorry." He murmured.

Without waiting for her to acknowledge his apology, he began to get up. Something touched his fingers and he froze, looking back down. Pietro's flickering gaze met his, parting his mouth slightly as he attempted to gasp out a few words. His hand trembled as his fingers intertwined with Clint's. Despite Wanda's previous words, he stepped over Pietro, kneeling on his other side. The younger man's eyes stayed fixed on him, still trying to speak.

"What is it?" Clint whispered, stoking a strand of hair from Pietro's face and tucking it behind his ear.

"Please…" Pietro breathed the words weakly, almost too quiet to hear. "Don't… Don't leave me…"

Clint shut his eyes briefly. "Don't think your sister would like that kid." He muttered. "She doesn't want me near you, and I don't blame her."

"Clint…" Pietro stopped to catch his breath. "I… I need… need…"

"Nat, can you throw me an oxygen mask please?" Clint asked, looking over his shoulder. A second later, the object came flying at him and he caught it with one hand. "Thank you." He carefully placed it over Pietro's mouth and nose. "Okay, okay deep breaths." He kept it there until the kid had regained control slightly, and drew it away, putting it on the floor. "What do you need…? Come on. Tell me what you need and I'll get it for you."

"Need… You to… To stop…" Pietro paused again, taking in deep shuddering breaths. "Stop… Blaming yourself."

Clint smiled sadly, exhaling a quiet sigh. "It's not that easy kid."

"For… For me?"

 _Oh, now you got me you little punk._ Clint rested his forehead on his knuckles, on the hand clasped in Pietro's. "Checkmate." He muttered, half to himself.

Hot tears pricked the corners of his eyes and he let out a shivering sigh. Pietro's grip tightened suddenly and Clint raised his head as the young man's body twisted rigidly. Wanda stroked his hair, whispering something in Sokovian until he relaxed. Natasha came over, briefly crouching beside Clint. She took his hand and forced something into it, curling his fingers over the object before standing up and walking back over to Bruce.

Clint looked down, sighing as he saw that Natasha had placed a circular, white pill in his hand. _I hate these things._ Clint reflected on the times when the medicine had been used on him. _If I want to fall asleep, I'll do it of my own accord._ He let out another sigh, realising it was for the best.

"Kid, you need to eat this." He murmured, moving his hand to Pietro's mouth.

Pietro turned his head to the side, feebly batting away Clint's hand.

"It'll stop the pain Pietro." Clint whispered softly. "It'll stop it hurting."

Pietro turned his head back, looking up at Clint. The archer hesitantly moved his hand up again and Pietro didn't protest as he gently forced his mouth open a little and slipped the medicine between his lips. Pietro grimaced at the taste as he chewed it. Swallowing painfully, he blinked in confusion, raising his head.

"It still hurts." He murmured.

Before anyone could reply, his eyes rolled back and fluttered shut as his head fell. Clint caught it before it hit the floor, lowering his head gently.

"There we go kid." He muttered under his breath, stroking a hand to Pietro's head. "There we go…"

"What have you done?" Wanda whispered, hurriedly touching her hands to her brother's cheeks.

"He's fine. He's just asleep."

Wanda relaxed visibly. Moving round, she sat cross-legged and lifted Pietro's torso onto her lap. She leant over Pietro, softly touching her lips to his before kissing his forehead.

"He means a lot to you, doesn't he?" Clint murmured, though he already knew the answer.

Wanda smiled sadly, gently stroking Pietro's pale hair. "He's my brother. And I love him."


End file.
